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GRANNY'S  WWmRFUL 
CHAIR  AND  ITS'  TALES 


4  <^ 


OF  FAIRY  TIME§^^; 


BY 

FRANCES  BROWNE 

INTRODUCED  AND  ILLUSTRATED 

By   KATHARINE  PYLE 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  BUTTON  &  CO.,  Inc. 


•4' 


The  Preface  and  all  the  Illustrations  in  this  Volume 

Copyright,  1916,  by 

E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 


First  Printing,  November,  1916 
Second  Printing,  July,  19 18 

Third  Printing,  September,  1922 

New  Edition,  October,   1925 

Second  Printing,  February,  1926 

Third  Printing,  June,  1926 

Fourth  Printing,  February,  1929 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


789358    t^il      b2)%l^\ 


PREFACE  TO  NEW  EDITION 

Years  and  years  ago  there  lived,  in  a  certain 
town  a  poor  old  blind  woman.  All  her  friends 
and  neighbours  pitied  her  because  she  was  poor 
and  blind. 

But  if  they  had  only  known  it  there  was  no  need 
for  pity.  They  might  well  have  envied  her  instead, 
for  this  old  woman  had  the  gift  of  magic,  and  be- 
cause of  her  magic  her  blind  eyes  could  see  farther 
and  clearer  than  any  other  pair  of  eyes  in  all  the 
town.  She  could  see  hidden  things ;  the  things  of 
fairyland,  and  of  the  world  beyond  this. 

As  to  her  being  poor,  that  mattered  little  to  her. 
Why  should  she  care  for  money  or  lands,  or  fine 
coaches  to  ride  in,  when  all  she  had  to  do  was  to 
wish  it,  and  away  she  could  go  into  fairyland. 
There  she  could  wander  at  will  over  shining  mead- 
ows, through  shadowy  forests,  and  by  softly-flow- 
ing streams,  and  never  weary  with  the  travelling 


iv  Preface 

however  far  she  went.  Or  she  could  enter  great 
palaces  and  see  about  her  everjrthing  that  was 
magnificent,  and  know  that  all  of  it  belonged  to  her 
for  as  long  as  she  cared  to  stay  there.  And  the 
best  of  it  all  was  that  these  fairy  riches  would  never 
waste  away;  the  gold  would  never  tarnish,  nor 
could  the  years  dim  the  sight  of  her  enchanted 
eyes. 

The  old  woman  never  hoarded  away  what  she 
possessed.  She  was  always  ready  to  share  her 
magic  with  others,  and  the  children  used  to  come 
to  her  as  they  might  to  a  fairy  godmother.  They 
quickly  learned  to  know  what  a  wonder-worker 
she  was.  Then,  if  they  were  good  little  children, 
she  would  take  them  by  the  hand  and  lead  them 
away  with  her  into  the  enchanted  lands.  They 
had  no  need  for  shoes  to  their  feet  nor  hats  for  their 
heads,  and  however  far  away  they  went  their 
mothers  had  only  to  call  to  them  and  the  old  woman 
could  have  them  back  home  again  in  a  twinkling. 

Do  you  wish  you  could  have  known  that  old 
blind  woman,  and  have  gone  with  her  into  fairy- 
land? 


Preface  v 

Years  and  years  ago  it  was  that  she  spun  her 
magic,  but  the  magic  is  not  all  gone  yet. 

Open  the  covers  of  this  book  and  let  your 
thoughts  step  inside  as  though  through  an  open 
door.  Now  open  your  mind's  eyes  and  look  about 
you. 

Why  here  sits  the  very  old  woman  herself. 
With  blind  but  seeing  eyes  she  spins  her  shining 
threads  as  of  old  from  a  mrgic  distaff  that  is 
always  full. 

If  you  like  she  will  take  yor.  hj  the  hand  and 
lead  you  away  into  the  enchanted  country  whither 
she  led  other  little  children  years  ago  when  your 
parents  and  your  grandparents  were  yoimg.  There 
you  will  find  the  same  people  they  foimd,  and  see 
the  same  sights  they  saw. 

The  wonderful  carved  chair  they  followed  over 
hill  and  dale  still  moves  as  fast  as  ever  on  its 
magic  rollers.  The  cushion  is  still  in  it,  and  the 
velvet  cover  has  neither  worn  nor  faded. 

Little  Snowflower  is  not  a  day  older  for  all  the 
years  that  have  passed  by  since  then.  The 
Princess  Greedalind,  alas !  has  not  grown  one  whit 


vi  Preface 

gentler  or  less  selfish.  She  still  sits  there  on  her 
throne  like  an  ugly  toad  bedecked  with  jewels, 
demanding  everything,  and  quarrelling  with  every- 
one who  will  not  give  her  what  she  wants. 

Merrymiiid  and  Fairyfoot,  Childe  Charity  and 
the  old  Shepherd  who  piped  his  sheep  into  wolves 
and  back  again  at  will ;  they  are  all  there  in  that 
enchanted  country  of  the  book. 

And  it  is  not  fields  and  forests  and  castles  only 
that  the  old  woman  can  show  you.  She  can  take 
you  down  tmder  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  too,  if 
you  like. 

Then  all  is  still  and  strange  and  muSed  by 
the  deep  waters  overhead.  Out  from  a  hidden 
cave  steps  the  merman  trailing  his  heavy,  fishy  feet. 
His  garments  rustle  lilie  the  rustle  of  snakes 
twisting  upon  each  other,  and  his  hands  and  arms 
are  crusted  with  rings  and  bracelets.  His  daugh- 
ters are  beautiful,  but  their  eyes  are  pale  and  green, 
and  they  have  but  little  more  warmth  or  feeling 
than  the  fishes  that  move  about  them.  Such  a 
wealth  of  treasures  as  the  merman  has  stored 
away  in  his  coral  caves  if  you  care  to  look.    But 


Preface  vii 

they  are  only  to  look  at  and  not  to  touch  or  you  will 
be  in  his  power  for  ever.  ^  v^ 

All  the  sights  of  earth  and  sea,  and  many  other 
wonders,  too,  the  old  blind  woman  can  show  you. 

And  now  she  has  laid  aside  her  distaff  and  she 
holds  out  her  hand  to  you.  Are  you  ready? 
Do  you  care  to  go  ?  Then  take  hold  of  her  fingers 
and  let  us  be  off  into  the  world  of  magic  and  en- 
chanted things. 

Katharine  Pyle. 


PREFACE 


The  writer  of  "  Granny's  Wonderful  Chair " 
was  a  poet,  and  blind.  That  she  was  a  poet  the 
story  tells  on  every  page,  but  of  her  blindness  it 
tells  not  a  word.  From  beginning  to  end  it  is  filled 
with  pictures;  each  little  tale  has  its  own  pictur- 
esque setting,  its  own  vividly  realised  scenery. 
Her  power  of  visualisation  would  be  easy  to  under- 
stand had  she  become  blind  in  the  later  years  of 
her  Hfe,  when  the  beauties  of  the  physical  world 
were  impressed  on  her  mind ;  but  Frances  Browne 
was  blind  from  infancy.  The  pictures  she  gives 
us  in  her  stories  were  created,  in  darkness,  from 
material  which  came  to  her  only  through  the  words 
of  others.     In  her  work  are  no  blurred  lines  or 


X  Preface 

uncertainties,  her  drawing  is  done  with  a  firm  and 
vigorous  hand.  It  would  seem  that  the  complete- 
ness of  her  calamity  created,  within  her,  that  ser- 
enity of  spirit  which  contrives  the  greatest  triumphs 
in  Life  and  in  Art.  Her  endeavour  was  to  reaKse 
the  world  independently  of  her  own  personal  emo- 
tion and  needs.  She,  who,  out  of  her  darkness  and 
poverty,  might  have  touched  us  so  surely  with  her 
longing  for  her  birthright  of  light,  for  her  share  of 
the  world's  good  things,  gives  help  and  encourage- 
ment to  the  more  fortunate. 

In  reading  the  very  few  details  of  her  life  we  feel 
the  stimulation  as  of  watching  one  who,  in  a  desper- 
ate fight,  wins  against  great  odds. 

The  odds  against  Frances  Browne  were  heavy. 
She  was  bom  at  Stranorlar,  a  moimtain  village  in 
Donegal,  on  January  i6,  1816.  Her  great-grand- 
father was  a  man  of  considerable  property,  which 
he  squandered ;  and  the  yoimger  generation  would 
seem  to  have  inherited  nothing  from  its  ancestor 
but  his  irresponsibility.  Frances  Browne's  father 
was  the  village  post-master,  and  she,  the  seventh 
in  a  family  of  twelve  children,  learning  privation 


Preface  xi 

-and  endurance  from  the  cradle.  But  no  soil  is  the 
wrong  one  for  genius.  Whether  or  not  hers  would 
have  developed  more  richly  in  more  generous  sur- 
-  roimdings,  it  is  difficult  to  say.  The  strong  mind 
that  could,  in  blindness  and  poverty,  secure  its  own 
education,  and  win  its  way  to  the  company  of  the 
best,  the  thoroughly  equipped  and  well  tended, 
gained  a  victory  which  genius  alone  made  possible. 

She  was  one  of  the  elect,  had  no  creative  achieve- 
ment crowned  her  triimiph. 

She  tells  us  how  she  herself  learned  by  heart 
the  lessons  which  her  brothers  and  sisters  said 
aloud  every  evening,  in  readiness  for  the  next  day's 
school;  and  how  she  bribed  them  to  read  to  her  by 
doing  their  share  of  the  household  work. 

When  the  usual  bribe  failed,  she  invented  stories 
for  them,  and,  in  return  for  these,  books  were  read 
to  her  which,  while  they  seemed  dull  and  uninter- 
esting enough  to  the  readers,  built  up  for  the  eager 
listener  those  enchanted  steps  by  which  she  was 
to  climb  into  her  intellectual  kingdom. 

Her  habit  was  to  say  these  lessons  aloud  at 
night,  when  every  one  else  was  asleep,  to  impress 


xii  Preface 

untiringly  upon  her  memory  the  knowledge  for 
which  she  persistently  fought  through  the  day. 

There  were  no  book-shops  at  Stranorlar,  or  with- 
in three  counties  of  it,  and  had  there  been  one, 
Frances  Browne  had  no  pennies  for  the  luxury  of 
books.  But  she  had  friends,  and  from  those  who 
were  richer  than  herself  in  possession,  she  bor- 
rowed her  tools.  From  the  village  teacher  she 
learned  French,  in  exchange  for  those  lessons  in 
grammar  and  geography  which  her  brothers  and 
sisters  had  given  away  to  her,  in  return  for  ntmiber- 
less  wipings  and  scrubbings  in  the  kitchen. 
Scott's  novels  marked  an  era  in  her  mental  life;, 
and  of  Pope's  Iliad — which  she  heard  read  when 
she  was  about  fifteen — she  says,  "  It  was  like  the 
discovery  of  a  new  world,  and  effected  a  total 
change  in  my  ideas  and  thoughts  on  the  subject  of 
poetry.  There  was  at  the  time  a  considerable  MS. 
of  my  own  production  in  existence,  which  of  course 
I  regarded  with  some  partiaUty;  but  Homer  had 
awakened  me,  and  ia  a  fit  of  sovereign  contempt 
I  committed  the  whole  to  the  flames.  After 
Homer's,  the  work  that  produced  the  greatest  im- 


Preface  xiii 

pression  on  my  mind  was  Byron's  'Childe  Harold.' 
The  one  had  induced  me  to  bum  my  first  MS.,  the 
other  made  me  resolve  against  verse-maldng  in 
future." 

Her  first  poem  was  written  at  the  age  of  seven, 
but  after  this  resolve  of  her  fifteenth  year,  she 
wrote  no  more  for  nearly  ten  years.  Then,  in  1840, 
when  she  was  four  and  twenty,  a  volume  of  Irish 
Songs  was  read  to  her,  and  her  own  music  re- 
awakened. She  wrote  a  poem  called  "  The  Songs 
of  our  Land."  It  was  published  in  the  "Irish 
Penny  Journal,"  and  can  be  foimd  still  in  DuflFy's 
"  Ballad  Poetry  of  Ireland."  After  this  her  poems 
grew  apace :  she  wrote  lyrics  for  the  "Athenaeum," 
"Hood's  Magazine,"  and  "Lady  Blessington's 
Keepsake."  Her  work  was  much  appreciated,  and 
her  poems  were  reprinted  in  many  of  the  contem- 
porary journals. 

She  pubUshed  a  complete  volume  of  poems  in 
1844,  and  a  second  volume  iu  1848,  which  she  called 
"L3rrics  and  Miscellaneous  Poems." 

The  first  use  to  which  she  put  her  literary  earn- 
ings was  the  education  of  a  sister,  to  be  her  reader 


xiv  Preface 

and  amanuensis.  In  Frances  Browne's  life  each 
step  was  in  the  direction  of  her  goal.  From  its 
beginning  to  its  end  the  strong  mind  pressed  un- 
hesitatingly forward  to  its  complete  development, 
seeking  the  inner  light  more  steadfastly  for  the 
absence  of  external  vision. 

Her  income  was  a  pension  of  i^20,  from  the  Royal 
Bounty  Fund;  and  with  this,  for  all  security,  she 
set  out,  in  1847,  with  her  sister  to  Edinburgh,  de- 
termined to  make  her  own  way  in  the  literary  world. 
At  leaving  her  native  land  she  says: 

**  I  go  as  one  that  comes  no  more,  yet  go  without  regret ; 
The  summers  other  memories  store  'twere  summer  to 

forget; 
I  go  without  one  parting  word,  one  grasp  of  parting  hand, 
As  to  the  wide  air  goes  the  bird — yet  fare  thee  well,  my 

land!" 

She  quickly  made  friends  ia  Edinburgh,  won  by 
her  genius  and  character,  in  the  circle  which  in- 
cluded Christopher  North.  Her  industry  was 
amazing :  she  wrote  essays,  reviews,  leaders,  lyrics, 
stories — indeed,  she  wrote  anything  she  was  asked 
to  write,  and  under  the  pressure  of  her  work  her 


Preface  XT 

prose  strengthened  and  developed.  But  all  her 
energy  cotdd  not  make  her  rich.  "  The  waters  of 
my  lot,"  she  says,  "were  often  troubled,  though  not 
by  angels."  Her  own  health  interfered  with  her 
work,  and,  from  the  beginning,  she,  out  of  her  own 
poverty,  tried  to  relieve  that  of  her  mother. 

In  1852  she  moved  to  London,  and  here,  by  the 
gift  of  Xioo  from  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  she 
was  for  the  time  released  from  the  pressure  oi 
daily  necessity.  She  concentrated  on  a  more  im- 
portant work  than  she  had  yet  attempted,  and 
wrote  a  novel  which  she  called  "  My  Share  of  the 
World." 

It  is  written  in  the  form  of  an  autobiography  of 
^  one  Frederick  Favoursham,  a  youthful  struggler 
"  through  journalism  and  tutorship,  who  wins  noth- 
ing better,  in  the  end,  than  a  lonely  possession  of 
vast  estates.  But  one  realises  fully,  in  this  story, 
the  strength  of  a  mind  whose  endeavour  is  to 
probe  the  heart  of  things,  and  whose  firm  incisive 
expression  translates  precisely  what  the  mind 
discovers. 

There  are  in  this  work,  and  it  is  natural  it  should 


xvi  Preface 

be  so,  one  or  two  touches  of  self-revelation;  the 
only  ones,  I  think,  which  she,  in  all  her  writing, 
permitted  herself.  She  makes  her  hero  say  of  his 
mother — "  Well  I  remember  her  old  blue  gown,  her 
hands  hard  with  rough  work,  her  still  girlish  figure 
and  small  pale  face,  from  which  the  bloom  and  the 
prettiness  had  gone  so  early;  but  the  hard  hand 
had,  in  its  kindly  pressure,  the  only  genuine  love 
I  ever  knew;  the  pale  face  looks  yet  on  my  sleep 
with  a  blessing,  and  the  old  gown  has  turned,  in 
my  dreams,  to  the  radiant  robe  of  an  angel." 

And  the  delicate  sensitive  character  of  Lucy,  the 
heroine,  reads  like  the  expression  of  the  writer's 
own  personality:  into  it  she  has  put  a  touch  of 
romance.  In  all  her  work  there  is  never  a  word  of 
personal  complaint,  but  the  words  she  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  her  hero,  when  Lucy  commits  suicide, 
must  have  been  bom  of  her  own  suffering :  "  When 
the  burden  outgrows  the  strength  so  far  that  moral 
as  well  as  physical  energies  begin  to  fail,  and  there 
is  no  door  but  death's,  that  will  welcome  our  weari- 
ness, what  remains  but  to  creep  into  that  quiet 
shelter?    I  think  it  had  come  to  that  with  Lucy. 


Preface  xvii 

Her  days  were  threatened  by  a  calamity,  the  most 
terrible  in  the  list  of  human  ills,  which  the  wise 
Manetho,  the  last  of  the  Egyptians,  with  his  brave 
Pagan  heart  and  large  philosophy,  thought  good 
and  sufficient  warrant  for  a  man^s  resigning  his 
place  on  the  earth." 

Among  other  mental  qualities,  she  had,  for  the 
fortification  of  her  spirit,  a  sense  of  humour.  In 
this  same  book  she  writes  of  "a  little  man  of  that 
peculiar  figure  which  looks  as  if  a  not  very  well 
filled  sack  had  somehow  got  legs  ";  and  comment- 
mg"on  a  little  difficulty  of  her  heroes  making,  shi 
says,  "  It  is  rather  an  awkward  business  to  meet  a 
family  at  breakfast  whose  only  son  one  has  kicked 
overnight." 

And  how  elastic  and  untarnished  must  that 
nature  have  been  which,  after  years  of  continuous 
struggle  for  bare  subsistence,  could  put  her  money- 
wise  people  on  to  paper  and  quietly  say  of  them 
that,  "  To  keep  a  daily  watch  over  passing  pence 
did  not  disturb  the  Fentons — it  was  a  mental 
exercise  suited  to  their  capacities.  "  The  turning 
of  that  sentence  was  surely  an  exquisite  pleasure 


xviii  Preface 

to  its  author.  And  "  My  Share  of  the  World  "  is 
fxiU  of  cleverly-tumed  sentences — "  Hartley  cared 
for  nobody,  and  I  believe  the  corollary  of  the 
miller's  song  was  verified  in  his  favour." 

But  we  must  not  linger  longer  over  her  novel,  its 
pages  are  full  of  passages  which  tell  of  the  vigorous 
quality  of  her  mind. 

Frances  Browne's  poetry  is  as  impersonal  as  her 
prose.  She  belonged  to  the  first  order  of  artists,  if 
there  be  distinction  in  our  gratitude.  The  material 
with  which  she  tried  to  deal  was  Life — apart  from 
herself — a  perhaps  bigger,  and,  certainly,  a  harder 
piece  of  work  than  the  subjective  expression  of  a 
single  personality. 

The  subjects  of  her  poems  are  in  many  lands 
and  periods.  The  most  ambitious — "  The  Star  of 
Atteghei" — is  a  tale  of  Circassia,  another  is  of  a 
twelfth-century  monk  and  the  philosopher's  stone, 
another  of  an  Arab ;  and  another  is  of  that  Cyprus 
tree  which  is  said  to  have  been  planted  at  the  birth 
of  Christ,  and  to  spare  which  Napoleon  deviated 
from  his  course  when  he  ordered  the  making  of  the 
road  over  the  Simplon. 


Preface  xix 

"  Why  came  it  not,  when  o*er  my  life 

A  cloud  of  darkness  hung, 
When  years  were  lost  in  fruitless  strife, 

But  still  my  heart  was  young? 
How  hath  the  shower  forgot  the  Spring, 
And  fallen  on  Autumn's  withering?  " 

These  lines  are  from  a  poem  called  "  The  Un- 
known Crown.  "  The  messenger  who  came  to  tell 
Tasso  the  laureate  crown  had  been  decreed  him, 
foimd  him  d3dng  in  a  convent. 

Then  she  has  verses  on  Boston,  on  Protestant 
Union  in  New  England,  on  the  Abolition  of  Slavery 
in  the  United  States,  on  the  Parliament  grant  for 
the  improvement  of  the  Shannon.  Her  mind  com- 
pelled externals  to  its  use. 

A  love  of  nature  was  in  her  soul,  a  perception  of 

the  beauty  of  the  world.    She,  with  her  poet's 

spirit,  saw  all  the  green  and  leafy  places  of  the 

earth,  all  its  flowery  ways — ^while  they,  may  be, 

were  trodden  heedlessly  by  those  about  her  with 

their  gift  of  sight. 

"  Sing  on  by  fane  and  forest  old 
By  tombs  and  cottage  eaves. 
And  tell  the  waste  of  coming  flowers 
The  woods  of  coming  leaves ; — 


XX  Preface 

The  same  sweet  song  that  o'er  the  birth 

Of  earliest  blossoms  rang, 
And  caught  its  music  from  the  hymn 

The  stars  of  morning  sang.  " 

("  The  Birds  of  Spring.  ") 

"  Ye  early  minstrels  of  the  earth, 

Whose  mighty  voices  woke 

The  echoes  of  its  infant  woods, 

Ere  yet  the  tempest  spoke ; 
How  is  it  that  ye  waken  still 

The  young  heart's  happy  dreams. 
And  shed  your  light  on  darkened  days 
O  bright  and  blessed  steams?  " 

("  Streams.") 

"  Words — words  of  hope! — oh!  long  believed, 

As  oracles  of  old, 
When  stars  of  promise  have  deceived, 

And  beacon-fires  grown  cold ! 
Though  still,  upon  time's  stormy  steeps. 

Such  sounds  are  faint  and  few, 
Yet  oft  from  cold  and  stranger  lips 

Hath  fallen  that  blessed  dew, — 
That,  like  the  rock-kept  rain,  remained 
When  many  a  sweeter  fount  was  drained." 

("  Words.") 

Many  and  many  such  verses  there  are  which 
might  be  quoted,  but  her  work  for  children  is  wait- 


II 


Preface  xxi 

ing. — For  them  she  wrote  many  stories,  and  in  their 
employ  her  imagination  travelled  into  many  lands. 
The  most  popular  was  "  Granny's  Wonderful 
Chair,"  published  in  1856.     It  was  at  once  a  fav- 

j  ourite,  and  quickly  out  of  print,  and,  strangely 
enough,  was  not  reprinted  until  1880.  Then  new 
editions  were  issued  in  1881,  '82,  '83,  '84,  '87,  and 
'89.  In  1887,  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett  pub- 
lished it,  with  a  preface,  under  the  title  "  Stories 
from  the  Lost  Fairy  Book,"  re-told  by  the  child 

'  who   read  them.     "The  Lost  Fairy  Book"  was 

j '  "  Granny's  Wonderful  Chair." 

'  One  has  not  far  to  read  to  discover  the  secret  of 
its  popularity  with  children.  It  is  full  of  word- 
pictures,  of  picturesque  settings.  Her  power  of 
visualisation  is  shown  in  these  fairy-tales  more, 
perhaps,  than  in  any  other  of  her  writings.  Truly, 
she  was  fortunate  in  having  the  Irish  fairies  to  lead 
her  into  their  gossamer-strewn  ways,  to  touch  her 
fancy  with  their  magic,  and  put  upon  her  the  gla- 
mour of  their  land.  When  the  stories  are  of  them 
she  is,  perhaps,  at  her  best;  but  each  story  in  the 
book  makes  a  complete  picture,  each  has  enough 


xxii  Preface 

and  no  more  of  colour  and  scene.  And  the  littl^ 
pictures  are  kept  in  their  places,  pinned  down  to 
reality,  by  delightful  touches  of  humour.  Of  the 
wonderful  chair.  Dame  Frostj^ace  says  in  the  begin- 
xiing  of  the  story,  "  It  was  made  by  a  ginning  fairy 
who  lived  in  the  forest  when  I  was  yoimg,  and  she 
gave  it  to  me  because  she  knew  nobody  would  keep 
what  they  got  hold  of  better." 

How  did  a  writer  who  never  saw  a  coach,  or  a 
palace,  or  the  picture  of  a  coach  or  a  palace,  tell 
of  the  palace  and  the  people  and  the  multitudes, 
of  the  roasting  and  boiling,  of  the  spiced  ale,  and 
the  dancing? 

Whence  came  her  vision  of  the  old  woman  who 
weaved  her  own  hair  into  grey  cloth  at  a  crazy 
loom;  of  the  fortified  city  in  the  plain,  with  corn- 
fields and  villages;  of  floors  of  ebony  and  ceilings 
of  silver;  of  swallows  that  built  in  the  eaves  while 
the  daisies  grew  thick  at  the  door? 

Had  her  descriptions  been  borrowed,  the  wonder 
of  them  would  cease.  But  her  words  are  her  own, 
and  they  are  used  sparingly,  as  by  one  who  sees  too 
vividly  what  she  is  describing  to  add  one  unneces- 


mw 


Preface  xxiii 

sary  or  indistinct  touch.  She  seems  as  much  at 
home  under  the  sea,  among  hills  of  marble  and 
rocks  of  spa,  as  with  the  shepherds  on  the  moorland 
or  when  she  tells  of  the  spring,  and  the  budding  of 
the  topmost  boughs. 

The  enrichment  of  little  Snowflower,  by  the 
King's  gifts,  links  these  stories  together  as  artis- 
tically as  the  telling  of  the  princess's  raiment  in 
that  beautiful  book,  "A  Digit  of  the  Moon";  and 
right  glad  we  are  when  the  poorly  clad  little  girl 
takes  her  place  among  the  grand  courtiers,  and  is 
led  away  to  happiness  by  the  Prince. 

Frances  Browne's  Hst  of  contributions  to  chil- 
dren's literature  is  a  long  one.  In  reading  these 
books  one  is  surprised  by  the  size  of  her  imagina- 
tive territory;  by  the  diversity  of  the  knowledge 
she  acquired. 

One,  "The  Exile's  Trust,"  is  a  story  of  the 
French  Revolution,  in  which  Charlotte  Corday  is 
introduced ;  and  in  it  are  descriptions  of  the  scenery 
of  Lower  Normandy;  another,  "The  First  of  the 
African  Diamonds,"  is  a  tale  of  the  Dutch  and  the 
banks  of  the  Orange  River.    Then,  in  "  The  Yoimg 


xxiv  Preface 

Foresters,"  she  conducts  her  young  heroes  to 
Archangel,  to  see  the  fine  frost  and  clear  sky,  the 
long  winter  nights,  and  long  summer  days,  to  ad- 
venture with  wolves  in  the  forest,  and  with  pirates 
by  sea. 

In  "  The  Dangerous  Guest "  she  is  in  the  time  of 
the  Young  Pretender,  and  in  "  The  Eriksons," 
"  The  Clever  Boy,"  and  *'  Our  Uncle  the  Traveller," 
she  wanders  far  and  wide. 

In  reviewing  her  subjects  one  realises  afresh  the 
richness  of  the  world  she  created  within  her  own 
darkness. 

A  wonderful  law  of  Exchange  keeps  safe  the  pre- 
cious things  of  Life,  and  it  operates  by  strange  and 
unexpected  means.  In  this  instance  it  was  most 
beautifully  maintained;  for  Frances  Browne,  the 
iron  of  calamity  was  transmuted  to  gold. 

Thus  it  has  been,  and  thus  it  shall  be ;  so  long  as 
the  world  shall  last,  circumstance  shall  not  conquer 
a  strong  and  beautiful  spirit. 

D.  R. 


Biblio^rapHx  xxv 

The  following  are  the  works  of  Frances  Browne : 

The  Star  of  Atteghei;  The  Vision  of  Schwartz,  and  other 
Poems,  1844;  Lyrics  and  Miscellaneous  Poems,  1848;  The 
Ericksons ;  The  Clever  Boy,  or  Consider  One  Another,  1852 ; 
Pictures  and  Songs  of  Home,  1856;  Granny's  Wonderful 
Chair,  and  its  Tales  of  Fairy  Times:  illustrated  by  Kenny 
Meadows,  1857;  illustrated  by  Mr.  Seymour  Lucas,  1891, 
1900 ;  with  an  introduction  by  F.  Hodgson  Burnett,  entitled, 
The  Story  of  the  Lost  Fairy  Book,  1904;  Our  Uncle  the 
Traveller's  Stories,  1859;  The  Young  Foresters;  The  Or- 
phans of  Elfholm  (Magnet  Stories,  i860,  etc.,  coll.  ed, 
1864);  My  Share  of  the  World:  an  Autobiography,  3  vols., 
1861 ;  The  Castleford  Case,  3  vols.,  1862 ;  The  Hidden  Sin, 
1866;  The  Exile's  Trust:  a  Tale  of  the  French  Revolution, 
and  other  Stories,  1869;  My  Nearest  Neighbour,  and  other 
Stories,  1875 ;  The  Foundling  of  the  Fens :  a  Story  of  a  Flood 
1886:  The  Dangerous  Guest:  a  Story  of  1745,  1886;  The 
First  of  the  African  Diamonds,  1887. 


CONTENTS 


(Chapter 

I. — Introductory 


n. — ^The  Christmas  Cuckoo 

in.— The  Lords  of  the  White  and  Grey 
Castles    . 


IV.— The  Greedy  Shepherd     . 
v.— The  Story  of  Fairyfoot 
VI.— The  Story  of  Childe  Charity 
Vn.— Sour  and  Civil 
Vni. — ^The  Story  of  Merrymind 
IX. — ^Prince  Wisewit'    ".etum 


Pags 

3 
19 


57 
85 

lOI 

127 
147 
177 
203 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Granny's  Wonderful  Chair Frontispiece 

Princess  Greedalind {Half  Title)  i 

Spare  Talking  to  the  Cuckoo {Half  Title)  17 

"  A  royal  messenger  was  sent  to  Spare  " 33 

"  A  Dwarf  named  Spy  stole  the  doublet  and  ran  off 

to  his  Mother  in  the  wood  " 41 

The  Old  Gray  Woman {Half  Title)  55 

"  Thinking  they  must  have  gone  to  the  forest,  the 

children  went  in  search  of  them  " 63 

Lady  Greensleeves  Talks  with  the  Raven 69 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Wolf {Half  Title)  83 

**  Thousands  of  sheep  were  feeding  while  an   old 

mans  at  in  the  midst  of  them  playing  on  his  pipe  "  92 

Fairyf oot  and  the  Fairy {Half  Title)  99 

"  All  the  little  people  cried  *  Welcome  *  " no 

Childe  Charity  with  her  Dog {Half  Title)  125 

The  Mermaid  on  the  Rock {Half  Title)  145 

xyjy 


yyy  Illustrations 

Page 

"  With  one  bound  they  leaped  into  his  boat.  .  .  his 

boat  went  down  miles  deep  in  the  sea  " 154 

"  The  Merman  showed  Civil  the  Chamber  of  Gold 

and  the  Chamber  of  Jewels  " 159 

Dame  Dreary (Half  Title)  175 

Merrymind  and  his  Burden 185 

Prince  Wisewit's  Return {Half  Title)  201 


6tannt'8 


mHonbcrful 


Chniv 


(g)  E.  P.  D.  &  Co. 


[Granny's    Wonderful    Chair 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTORY 

In  an  old  time,  long  ago,  when  the  fairies  were 
in  the  world,  there  lived  a  little  girl  so  uncommonly 
fair  and  pleasant  of  look,  that  they  called  her 
Snowflower.  This  girl  was  good  as  well  as  prp^y:. 
No  one  had  ever  seen  her  frown  or  heard  her  say.  a 
cross  word,  and  young  and  old  were  glad  when  they 
saw  her  coming. 

Snowflower  had  no  relation  in  the  world  but 
a  very  old  grandmother,  called  Dame  Frostyface; 
people  did  not  like  her  quite  so  well  as  her  grand- 
daughter, for  she  was  cross  enough  at  times,  but 
always  kind  to  Snowflower;  and  they  lived  together 
in  a  little  cottage  built  of  peat,  and  thatched  with 
reeds,  on  the  edge  of  a  great  forest;  tall  trees 


4  Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

sheltered  its  back  from  the  north  wind;  the  mid- 
day Sim  made  its  front  warm  and  cheerful;  swal- 
lows built  in  the  eaves;  daisies  grew  thick  at  the 
door;  but  there  were  none  in  all  that  country 
poorer  than  Snowflower  and  her  grandmother. 
A  cat  and  two  hens  were  all  their  live-stock :  their 
bed  was  dry  grass,  and  the  only  good  piece  of  furni- 
ture in  the  cottage  was  a  great  arm-chair  with 
wheels  on  its  feet,  a  black  velvet  cushion,  and 
many  curious  carvings  of  flowers  and  fawns  on  its 
dark  oaken  back. 

On  that  chair  Dame  Frostyface  sat  spinning 
from  morning  till  night  to  maintain  herself  and 
her  granddaughter,  while  Snowflower  gathered 
sticks  for  firing,  looked  after  the  hens  and  the  cat, 
and  did  whatever  else  her  grandmother  bade  her. 
There  was  nobody  in  the  shire  could  spin  such 
fine  yam  as  Dame  Frostyface,  but  she  spun  very 
slowly.  Her  wheel  was  as  old  as  herself,  and  far 
the  more  worn;  indeed,  the  wonder  was  that  it  did 
not  fall  to  pieces.  So  the  dame's  earnings  were 
anall,  and  their  living  meagre.  Snowflower,  how- 
ever, felt  no  want  of  good  dumers  or  fine  clothes. 


Introductory  5 

Every  evening,  v^hen  the  fire  was  heaped  with  the 
sticks  she  had  gathered  till  it  blazed  and  crackled 
up  the  cottage  chimney,  Dame  Frostyface  set  aside 
her  wheel,  and  told  her  a  new  story.  Often  did 
the  little  girl  wonder  where  her  grandmother  had 
gathered  so  many  stories,  but  she  soon  learned 
that.  One  sunny  morning,  at  the  time  of  the 
swallows  coming,  the  dame  rose  up,  put  on  the 
grey  hood  and  mantle  in  which  she  carried  her 
yam  to  the  fairs,  and  said,  "  My  child,  I  am  going 
a  long  journey  to  visit  an  aunt  of  mine,  who  lives 
far  in  the  north  country.  I  cannot  take  you  with 
me,  because  my  aunt  is  the  crossest  woman  alive, 
and  never  liked  young  people:  but  the  hens  will 
lay  eggs  for  you;  there  is  barley-meal  in  the  barrel; 
and,  as  you  have  been  a  good  girl,  1*11  tell  you 
what  to  do  when  you  feel  lonely.  Lay  your  head 
gently  down  on  the  cushion  of  the  arm-chair,  and 
I  say,  "Chair  of  my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story." 
tit  was  made  by  a  cunning  fairy,  who  lived  in  the 
[forest  when  I  was  young,  and  she  gave  it  to  me 
[because  she  knew  nobody  could  keep  what  they 
got  hold  of  better.     Remember,  you  must  never 

t.  i^a  ruGiic  Library,  I'^ewarK,  im.  i. 


6  Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

ask  a  story  more  than  once  in  the  day ;  and  if  there 
be  any  occasion  to  travel,  you  have  only  to  seat 
yourself  in  it,  and  say,  "  Chair  of  my  grandmother, 
take  me  such  a  way.'*  It  will  carry  you  wherever 
you  wish;  but  mind  to  oil  the  wheels  before  you 
set  out,  for  I  have  sat  on  it  these  forty  years  in 
that  same  corner.  " 

Having  said  this.  Dame  Frostyface  set  forth  to 
see  her  aunt  in  the  north  country.  Snowflower 
gathered  firing  and  looked  after  the  hens  and  cat 
as  usual.  She  baked  herself  a  cake  or  two  of  the 
barley-meal ;  but  when  the  evening  fell  the  cottage 
looked  lonely.  Then  Snowflower  remembered  her 
grandmother's  words,  and,  laying  her  head  gently 
down,  she  said,  "  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  tell 
me  a  story.  " 

Scarce  were  the  words  spoken,  when  a  clear 
voice  from  under  the  velvet  cushion  began  to 
tell  a  new  and  most  wonderful  tale,  which  surprised 
Snowflower  so  much  that  she  forgot  to  be  fright- 
ened. After  that  the  good  girl  was  lonely  no  more. 
Every  morning  she  baked  a  barley  cake,  and  every 
evening  the  chair  told  her  a  new  story;  but  she 


Introductory 


couU  never  find  out  who  owned  the  voice,  though 
Snowflower  showed  her  gratitude  by  polishing  up 
the  oaken  back,  and  dusting  the  velvet  cushion, 
till  the  chair  looked  as  good  as  new.  The  swallows 
came  and  built  in  the  eaves,  the  daisies  grew 
thicker  than  ever  at  the  door;  but  great  misfor- 
[tunes  fell  upon  Snowflower.  Notwithstanding  all 
her  care,  she  forgot  to  clip  the  hens*  wings,  and 
;  they  flew  away  one  morning  to  visit  their  friends, 
[the  pheasants,  who  lived  far  in  the  forest;  the  cat 
followed  them  to  see  its  relations;  the  barley-meal 
[was  eaten  up,  except  a  couple  of  handfuls;  and 
Snowflower  had  often  strained  her  eyes  in  hopes  of 
I  seeing  the  grey  mantle,  but  there  was  no  appear- 
[ance  of  Dame  Frostyface. 

"  My  grandmother  stays  long, "  said  Snow- 
flower to  herself;  "  and  by  and  by  there  will  be 
nothing  to  eat.  If  I  could  get  to  her,  perhaps  she 
would  advise  me  what  to  do;  and  this  is  a  good 
occasion  for  travelling." 

Next  day,  at  sunrise,  Snowflower  oiled  the 
chair's  wheels,  baked  a  cake  out  of  the  last  of  the 
meal,  took  it  in  her  lap  by  way  of  provision  for 


8  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

the  journey,  seated  herself,  and  said,  "  Chair  of 
my  grandmother,  take  me  the  way  she  went." 

Presently  the  chair  gave  a  creak,  and  began 
to  move  out  of  the  cottage,  and  into  the  forest  the 
very  way  Dame  Frostjrface  had  taken,  where  it 
rolled  along  at  a  rate  of  a  coach  and  six.  Snow- 
flower  was  amazed  at  this  style  of  travelling,  but 
the  chair  never  stopped  nor  stayed  the  whole  sum- 
mer day,  till  as  the  sun  was  setting  they  came  upon 
an  open  space,  where  a  hundred  men  were  hewing 
down  the  tall  trees  with  their  axes,  a  hundred  more 
were  cleaving  them  for  firewood,  and  twenty  wag- 
goners, with  horses  and  waggons,  were  carrying 
the  wood  away.  "  Oh!  chair  of  my  grandmother, 
stop!  "  said  Snowflower,  for  she  was  tired,  and 
also  wished  to  know  what  this  might  mean.  The 
chair  immediately  stood  still,  and  Snowflower, 
seeing  an  old  woodcutter,  who  looked  civil,  stepped 
up  to  him,  and  said,  "  Good  father,  tell  me  why 
you  cut  all  this  wood  ?  " 

"  What  ignorant  country  girl  are  you  ?  "  replied 
the  man,  "  not  to  have  heard  of  the  great  feast 
which  our  sovereign.  King  Winwealth,  means  to 


Introductory  9 

give  on  the  birthday  of  his  only  daughter,  the 
Princess  Greedalind.  It  will  last  seven  days. 
Everybody  will  be  feasted,  and  this  wood  is  to 
roast  the  oxen  and  the  sheep,  the  geese  and  the 
turkeys,  amongst  whom  there  is  a  great  lamenta- 
tion throughout  the  land." 

When  Snowfiower  heard  that  she  could  not 
help  wishing  to  see,  and  perhaps  share  in,  such 
a  noble  feast,  after  living  so  long  on  barley  cakes; 
so,  seating  herself,  she  said,  "  Chair  of  my  grand- 
mother, take  me  quickly  to  the  palace  of  King 
Winwealth." 

The  words  were  hardly  spoken,  when  off  the 
chair  started  through  the  trees  and  out  of  the 
forest,  to  the  great  amazement  of  the  woodcutters^ 
who,  never  having  seen  such  a  sight  before, 
threw  down  their  axes,  left  their  waggons,  and 
followed  Snowfiower  to  the  gates  of  a  great  and 
splendid  city,  fortified  with  strong  walls  and  high 
towers,  and  standiag  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  plain 
covered  with  cornfields,  orchards,  and  villages. 

It  was  the  richest  city  in  all  the  land ;  merchants 
[from  every  quarter  came  there  to  buy  and  sell, 


10  Granny  s  Wonderful  CHair 

and  there  was  a  saying  that  people  had  only  to  live 
seven  years  in  it  to  make  their  fortunes.  Rich 
as  they  were,  however,  Snowflower  thought  she 
had  never  seen  so  many  discontented,  covetous 
faces  as  looked  out  from  the  great  shops,  grand 
houses,  and  fine  coaches,  when  her  chair  rattled 
along  the  streets ;  indeed,  the  citizens  did  not  stand 
high  in  repute  for  either  good-nature  or  honesty; 
but  it  had  not  been  so  when  King  ¥/inwealth  was 
young,  and  he  and  his  brother.  Prince  Wisewit, 
governed  the  land  together— Wisewit  was  a  won- 
derful prince  for  knowledge  and  prudence.  He 
knew  the  whole  art  of  government,  the  tempers  of 
men,  and  the  powers  of  the  stars ;  moreover,  he  was 
a  great  magician,  and  it  was  said  of  him  that  he 
could  never  die  or  grow  old.  In  his  time  there  was 
neither  discontent  nor  sickness  in  the  city — 
strangers  were  hospitably  entertained  without 
price  or  questions.  Lawsuits  there  were  none, 
and  no  one  locked  his  door  at  night.  The  fairies 
used  to  come  there  at  May-day  and  Michaelmas, 
for  they  were  Prince  Wisewit's  friends — all  but 
one,  called  Fortunetta,  a  shortsighted  but  very 


Introd\ictory  ii 

cunning  fairy,  who  hated  everybody  wiser  than 
herself,  and  the  prince  especially,  because  she 
could  neiver  deceive  him. 

y  There  was  peace  and  pleasure  for  niany  a  year 
in  King  Winwealth's  city,  till  one  day  at  midsum- 
mer Prince  Wisewit  went  alone  to  the  forest,  in 
search  of  a  strange  herb  for  his  garden,  but  he 
never  came  back ;  and  though  the  king,  with  all  his 
guards,  searched  far  and  near,  no  news  was  ever 
heard  of  him.  When  his  brother  was  gone.  King 
Winwealth  grew  lonely  in  his  great  palace,  so  he 
married  a  certain  princess,  called  Wantall,  and 
brought  her  home  to  be  his  queen.  This  princess 
was  neither  handsome  nor  agreeable.  People 
thought  she  must  have  gained  the  king's  love  by 
enchantment,  for  her  whole  dowry  was  a  desert  is- 
land, with  a  huge  pit  in  it  that  never  could  be  filled, 
and  her  disposition  was  so  covetous,  that  the  more 
she  got  the  greedier  she  grew.  In  process  of  time 
the  king  and  queen  had  an  only  daughter,  who  was 
to  be  the  heiress  of  all  their  dominions.  Her  name 
was  the  Princess  Greedalind,  and  the  whole  city 
were  making  preparations  to  celebrate  her  birth- 


12  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

day — ^not  that  they  cared  much  for  the  princess, 
who  was  remarkably  like  her  mother  both  m  looks 
and  temper,  but  being  King  Winwealth's  only 
daughter,  people  came  from  far  and  near  to  the 
festival,  and  among  them  strangers  and  fairies 
who  had  not  been  there  since  the  day  of  Prince 
Wisewit. 

There  was  surprising  bustle  about  the  palace, 
a  most  noble  building,  so  spacious  that  it  had  a 
room  for  every  day  in  the  year.  All  the  floors  were 
of  ebony,  and  all  the  ceilings  of  silver,  and  there 
was  such  a  supply  of  golden  dishes  used  by  the 
household,  that  five  himdred  armed  men  kept 
guard  night  and  day  lest  any  of  them  shoxxld  be 
stolen.  When  these  guards  saw  Snowflower  and 
her  chair,  they  ran  one  after  the  other  to  tell  the 
king,  for  the  like  had  never  been  seen  nor  heard 
of  in  his  dominions,  and  the  whole  coxirt  crowded 
out  to  see  the  Httle  maiden  and  her  chair  that 
came  of  itself. 

When  Snowflower  saw  the  lords  and  ladies  in 
their  embroidered  robes  and  splendid  jewels  she 
began  to  feel  ashamed  of  her  own  bare  feet  and 


Introductory  13 

linen  gown;  but  at  le'ngth  taking  courage,  she 
answered  all  their  questions,  and  told  them  every- 
thing about  her  wonderful  chair.  The  queen  and 
the  princess  cared  for  nothing  that  was  not  gilt. 
The  courtiers  had  learned  the  same  fashion,  and 
all  turned  away  in  high  disdain  except  the  old  king, 
who,  thinking  the  chair  might  amuse  him  some- 
times when  he  got  out  of  spirits,  allowed  Snow- 
flower  to  stay  and  feast  with  the  scullion  in  his 
worst  kitchen.  The  poor  little  girl  was  glad  of  any 
quarters,  though  nobody  made  her  welcome — even 
the  servants  despised  her  bare  feet  and  linen  gown. 
They  would  give  her  chair  ho  room  but  in  a  dusty 
comer  behind  the  back  door,  where  Snowflower 
was  told  she  might  sleep  at  night,  and  eat  up  the 
scraps  the  cook  threw  away. 

That  very  day  the  feast  began;  it  was  fine  to  see 
the  multitudes  of  coaches  and  people  on  foot  and 
on  horseback  who  crowded  to  the  palace,  and  filled 
every  room  according  to  their  rank.  Never  had 
Snowflower  seen  such  roasting  and  boiling.  There 
was  wine  for  the  lords  and  spiced  ale  for  the  com- 
mon people,  music  and  dancing  of  all  kinds,  and 


14  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

the  best  of  gay  dresses ;  but  with  all  the  good  cheer 
there  seemed  little  merriment,  and  a  deal  of  ill- 
humour  in  the  palace. 

Some  of  the  guests  thought  they  should  have 
been  feasted  in  grander  rooms ;  others  were  vexed 
to  see  many  finer  than  themselves.  All  the  ser- 
vants were  dissatisfied  because  they  did  not  get 
presents.  There  was  somebody  caught  every  hour 
stealing  the  cups,  and  a  multitude  of  people  were 
always  at  the  gates  clamouring  for  goods  and  lands, 
which  Queen  Wantall  had  taken  from  them.  The 
guards  continually  drove  them  away,  but  they 
came  back  again,  and  could  be  heard  plainly  in 
the  highest  banquet  hall:  so  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  the  old  king's  spirits  got  xmcommonly  low 
that  evening  after  supper.  His  favourite  page, 
who  always  stood  behind  him,  perceiving  this, 
reminded  his  majesty  of  the  little  girl  and  her 
chair. 

"  It  is  a  good  thought,  "  said  King  Winwealth. 
"  I  have  not  heard  a  story  this  many  a  year.  Bring 
the  child  and  the  chair  instantly !  " 

The  favotirite  page  sent  a  messenger  to  the  first 


Introductory  13 

kitchen,  who  told  the  master-cook,  the  master- 
cook  told  the  kitchen-maid,  the  kitchen-maid  told 
the  chief-scullion,  the  chief-scullion  told  the  dust- 
boy,  and  he  told  Snowflower  to  wash  her  face,  rub 
up  her  chair-^  and  go  to  the  highest  banquet  hall,  for 
the  great  King  Winwealth  wished  to  hear  a  story. 

Nobody  offered  to  help  her,  but  when  Snow- 
flower  had  made  herself  as  smart  as  she  could  with 
soap  and  water,  and  rubbed  the  chair  till  it  looked 
as  if  dust  had  never  fallen  on  it,  she  seated  herself, 
and  said : — "  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  take  me 
to  the  highest  banquet  hall.  " 

Instantly  the  chair  marched  in  a  grave  and 
courtly  fashion  out  of  the  kitchen,  up  the  grand 
staircase,  and  into  the  highest  hall.  The  chief 
lords  and  ladies  of  the  land  were  entertained  there^ 
besides  many  fairies  and  notable  people  from  dis- 
tant countries.  There  had  never  been  such  com- 
pany in  the  palace  since  the  time  of  Prince  Wisewit; 
nobody  wore  less  than  embroidered  satin.  King 
"Winwealth  sat  on  his  ivory  throne  in  a  robe  of 
purple  velvet,  stiff  with  flowers  of  gold ;  the  queen 
sat  by  his  side  in  a  robe  of  silver  cloth,  clasped  with 


l6  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

pearls ;  but  the  Princess  Greedalind  was  finer  stillj 
the  feast  being  in  her  honour.  She  wore  a  robe 
of  cloth  of  gold  clasped  with  diamonds;  two 
waiting-ladies  in  white  satin  stood,  one  on  either 
side,  to  hold  her  fan  and  handkerchief;  and  two 
pages,  in  gold-lace  livery,  stood  behind  her  chair. 
With  all  that  Princess  Greedalind  looked  ugly  and 
spiteful;  she  and  her  mother  were  angry  to  see  a 
barefooted  girl  and  an  old  chair  allowed  to  enter 
the  banquet  hall. 

The  supper-table  was  still  covered  with  golden 
dishes,  and  the  best  of  good  things,  but  no  one 
offered  Snowflower  a  morsel :  so,  having  made  an 
humble  courtesy  to  the  king,  the  queen,  the  prin- 
cess, and  the  good  company,  most  of  whom  scarcely 
noticed  her,  the  poor  little  girl  sat  down  upon  the 
carpet,  laid  her  head  on  the  velvet  cushion,  as  she 
used  to  do  in  the  old  cottage,  and  said: — "  Chair 
of  my  grandmotherj  tell  me  a  story.  " 

Everybody  was  astonished,  even  to  the  angry 
queen  and  the  spiteful  princess,  when  a  clear 
voice  from  under  the  cushion,  said: — "  Listen  to 
the  story  of  the  Christmas  Cuckoo !  " 


Zbc  Christmas 
Cuckoo 


©  E.  P.  D.  &  Co 


CHAPTER   n 

THE  CHRISTMAS  CUCKOO 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  stood  in  the  midst 
of  a  bleak  moor,  in  the  north  country,  a  certain 
village;  all  its  inhabitants  were  poor,  for  their 
fields  were  barren,  and  they  had  Httle  trade,  but 
the  poorest  of  them  all  were  two  brothers  called 
Scrub  and  Spare,  who  followed  the  cobbler's  craft, 
and  had  but  one  stall  between  them.  It  was  a  hut 
built  of  clay  and  wattles.  The  door  was  low  and 
always  open,  for  there  was  no  window.  The  roof 
did  not  entirely  keep  out  the  rain,  and  the  only 
thing  comfortable  about  it  was  a  wide  hearth,  for 
which  the  brothers  could  never  find  wood  enough 
to  make  a  sufficient  fire.  There  they  worked  in 
most  brotherly  friendship,  though  with  little 
encouragement. 

"  The  people  of  that  village  were  not  extravagant 

19 


20  Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

in  shoes,  and  better  cobblers  than  Scrub  and  Spare 
might  be  found.  Spiteful  people  said  there  were 
no  shoes  so  bad  that  they  would  not  be  worse  for 
their  mending.  Nevertheless  Scrub  and  Spare 
managed  to  live  between  their  own  trade,  a  small 
barley  field,  and  a  cottage  garden,  till  one  unlucky 
day  when  a  new  cobbler  arrived  in  the  village. 
He  had  lived  in  the  capital  city  of  the  kingdom, 
and,  by  his  own  account,  cobbled  for  the  queen  and 
the  princesses.  His  awls  were  sharp,  his  lasts  were 
new ;  he  set  up  his  stall  in  a  neat  cottage  with  two 
windows.  The  villagers  soon  found  out  that  one 
patch  of  his  would  wear  two  of  the  brothers\  In 
short,  all  the  mending  left  Scrub  and  Spare,  and 
went  to  the  new  cobbler.  The  season  had  been 
wet  and  cold,  their  barley  did  not  ripen  well,  and 
the  cabbages  never  half  closed  in  the  garden.  So 
the  brothers  were  poor  that  winter,  and  when 
Christmas  came  they  had  nothing  to  feast  on  but  a 
barley  loaf,  a  piece  of  rusty  bacon,  and  some  small 
beer  of  their  own  brewing.  Worse  than  that,  the 
snow  was  very  deep,  and  they  could  get  no  firewood. 
Their  hut  stood  at  the  end  of  the  village,  beyond  it 


TKe  CKristmas  CixcKoo  2i 

spread  the  bleak  moor,  now  all  white  and  silent; 
but  that  moor  had  once  been  a  forest,  great  roots 
of  old  trees  were  still  to  be  foimd  in  it,  loosened 
from  the  soil  and  laid  bare  by  the  winds  and  rains — ■ 
one  of  these,  a  rough,  gnarled  log,  lay  hard  by  their 
door,  the  half  of  it  above  the  snow,  and  Spare  said 
to  his  brother 

"  *  Shall  we  sit  here  cold  on  Christmas  while  the 
great  root  lies  yonder?  Let  us  chop  it  up  for 
firewood,  the  work  wiU  make  us  warm.' 

"  *  No,  said  Scrub ;  *  it's  not  right  to  chop  wood 
on  Christmas ;  besides,  that  root  is  too  hard  to  be 
broken  with  any  hatchet.' 

"  *  Hard  or  not  we  must  have  a  fire,'  replied 
Spare.  *  Come,  brother,  help  me  in  with  it.  Poor 
as  we  are,  there  is  nobody  in  the  village  will  have 
such  a  jrule  log  as  ours.' 

"  Scrub  liked  a  little  grandeur,  and  in  hopes 
of  having  a  fine  yale  log,  both  brothers  strained  and 
strove  with  all  their  might  till,  between  pulling  and 
pushing,  the  great  old  root  was  safe  on  the  hearth, 
and  beginning  to  crackle  and  blaze  with  the  red 
embers.    In  high  glee,  the  cobblers  sat  down  to 


22  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

their  beer  and  bacon.  The  door  was  shut,  for 
there  was  nothing  but  cold  moonlight  and  snow 
outside ;  but  the  hut,  strewn  with  fir  boughs,  and 
ornamented  with  holly,  looked  cheerful  as  the 
ruddy  blaze  flared  up  and  rejoiced  their  hearts. 

"  *  Long  life  and  good  forttme  to  ourselves 
brother ! '  said  Spare.  '  I  hope  you  will  drink  that 
toast,  and  may  we  never  have  a  worse  fire  on 
Christmas — ^but  what  is  that  ? ' 

"  Spare  set  down  the  drinking-horn,  and  the 
brothers  listened  astonished,  for  out  of  the  blazing 
root  they  heard,  *  Cuckoo !  cuckoo !  *  as  plain  as 
ever  the  spring-bird's  voice  came  over  the  moor  on 
a  May  morning. 

"  *  It  is  something  bad, '  said  Scrub,  terribly 
frightened. 

"  *  May  be  not,'  said  Spare;  and  out  of  the  deep 
hole  at  the  side  which  the  fire  had  not  reached 
flew  a  large  grey  cuckoo,  and  lit  on  the  table  before 
them.    Much  as  the  cobblers  had  been  surprised 

they  were  still  more  so  when  it  said 

.   * '  Good  gentlemen,  what  season  is  this  ? ' 

"  *  It's  Christmas,'  said  Spare. 


XKe  CKristmas  CucKoo  23 

"  *  Then  a  merry  Christmas  to  you ! '  said  the 
cuckoo.  *  I  went  to  sleep  in  the  hollow  of  that 
old  root  one  evening  last  summer,  and  never  woke 
till  the  heat  of  your  fire  made  me  think  it  was  sum- 
mer again;  but  now  since  you  have  burned  my 
lodging,  let  me  stay  in  your  hut  till  the  spring  comes 
round — I  only  want  a  hole  to  sleep  in,  and  when  I 
go  on  my  travels  next  summer  be  assured  I  will 
bring  you  some  present  for  your  trouble.' 

"  *  Stay,  and  welcome,*  said  Spare,  while 
Scrub  sat  wondering  if  it  were  something  bad  or 
not ;  *  I'll  make  you  a  good  warm  hole  in  the  thatch. 
But  you  must  be  hungry  after  that  long  sleep? — 
here  is  a  slice  of  barley  bread.  Come  help  us  to 
keep  Christmas! 

"  The  cuckoo  ate  up  the  slice,  drank  water 
from  the  brown  jug,  for  he  would  take  no  beer, 
and  flew  into  a  snug  hole  which  Spare  scooped 
for  him  in  the  thatch  of  the  hut. 

"  Scrub  said  he  was  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  lucky; 
but  as  it  slept  on,  and  the  days  passed  he  forgot  his 
fears.  So  the  snow  melted,  the  heavy  rains  came, 
the  cold  grew  less,  the  days  lengthened,  and  one 


24  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

sunny  morning  the  brothers  were  awoke  by  the 
cuckoo  shouting  its  own  cry  to  let  them  know  the 
spring  had  come. 

"  *  Now  I'm  going  on  my  travels/  said  the 
bird,  *  over  the  world  to  tell  men  of  the  spring. 
There  is  no  country  where  trees  bud  or  flowers 
bloom,  that  I  will  not  cry  in  before  the  year  goes 
roimd.  Give  me  another  slice  of  barley  bread  to 
keep  me  on  my  journey,  and  tell  me  what  present 
I  shall  bring  you  at  the  twelve-month's  end.' 

"  Scrub  would  have  been  angry  with  his  brother 
for  cutting  so  large  a  slice,  their  store  of  barley- 
meal  being  low;  but  his  mind  was  occupied  with 
what  present  would  be  most  prudent  to  ask:  at 
length  a  lucky  thought  struck  him. 

"  *  Good  master  cuckoo,'  said  he,  *  if  a  great 
traveller  who  sees  all  the  world  like  you,  could 
know  of  any  place  where  diamonds  or  pearls  were 
to  be  found,  one  of  a  tolerable  size  brought  in 
your  beak  would  help  such  poor  men  as  my  brother 
and  I  to  provide  something  better  than  barley  bread 
for  your  next  entertainment.' 

"  *  I   know   nothing   of    diamonds  or  pearls,* 


TKe  CKristmas  CucKoo  25 

said  the  cuckoo ;  *  they  are  in  the  hearts  of  rocks 
and  the  sand  of  rivers.  My  knowledge  is  only  of 
that  which  grows  on  the  earth.  But  there  are  two 
trees  hard  by  the  well  that  lies  at  the  world's  end 
— one  of  them  is  called  the  golden  tree,  for  its 
leaves  are  all  of  beaten  gold:  every  winter  they 
fall  into  the  well  with  a  sound  like  scattered  coin, 
and  I  know  not  what  becomes  of  them.  As  for 
the  other,  it  is  always  green  like  a  laurel.  Some 
call  it  the  wise,  and  some  the  merry  tree.  Its 
leaves  never  fall,  but  they  that  get  one  of  them 
keep  a  blithe  heart  in  spite  of  all  misfortunes,  and 
can  make  themselves  as  merry  in  a  hut  as  in  a 
palace.* 

"  *  Good  master  cuckoo,  bring  me  a  leaf  off  that 
tree  I '  cried  Spare. 

"  *  Now,  brother,  don't  be  a  fool! '  said  Scrub! 
*  think  of  the  leaves  of  beaten  gold !  Dear  master 
I  cuckoo,  bring  me  one  of  them ! ' 

"  Before  another  word  could  be  spoken,  the 

I  cuckoo  had  flown  out  of  the  open  door,  and  was 

!  shouting  its  spring  cry  over  moor  and  meadow. 

The  brothers  were  poorer  than  ever  that  year; 


26  Granny's  W^onderfxil  CKair 

nobody  would  send  them  a  single  shoe  to  mend. 
The  new  cobbler  said,  in  scorn,  they  should  come 
to  be  his  apprentices ;  and  Scrub  and  Spare  would 
have  left  the  village  but  for  their  barley  field, 
their  cabbage  garden,  and  a  certain  maid  called 
Fairfeather,  whom  both  the  cobblers  had  courted 
for  seven  years  without  even  knowing  which  she 
meant  to  favour. 

"  Sometimes  Fairfeather  seemed  inclined  to 
Scrub,  sometimes  she  smiled  on  Spare;  but  the 
brothers  never  disputed  for  that.  They  sowed 
their  barley,  planted  their  cabbage,  and  now  that 
their  trade  was  gone,  worked  in  the  rich  villagers* 
fields  to  make  out  a  scanty  living.  So  the  seasons 
came  and  passed:  spring,  summer,  harvest,  and 
winter  followed  each  other  as  they  have  done  from 
the  beginning.  At  the  end  of  the  latter,  Scrub 
and  Spare  had  grown  so  poor  and  ragged  that 
Fairfeather  thought  them  beneath  her  notice. 
Old  neighbours  forgot  to  invite  them  to  wedding 
feasts  or  merrymaking;  and  they  thought  the 
cuckoo  had  forgotten  them  too,  when  at  day- 
break, on  the  first  of  April,  they  heard  a  hard 


THe  CKristmas  CucKoo  27 

beak  knocking  at  their  door,  and  a  voice 
crying 

"  *  Cuckoo !  cuckoo !  Let  me  in  with  my  pre- 
sents.' 

"  Spare  ran  to  open  the  door,  and  in  came  the 
cuckoo,  carrying  on  one  side  of  his  bill  a  golden 
leaf  larger  than  that  of  any  tree  in  the  north 
country;  and  in  the  other,  one  like  that  of  the 
common  laurel,  only  it  had  a  fresher  green. 

"  *  Here, '  it  said,  giving  the  gold  to  Scrub  and 
the  green  to  Spare,  *  it  is  a  long  carriage  from  the 
world*s  end.  Give  me  a  slice  of  barley  bread, 
for  I  must  tell  the  north  country  that  the  spring 
has  come.' 

"  Scrub  did  not  grudge  the  thickness  of  that 
slice,  though  it  was  cut  from  their  last  loaf.  So 
much  gold  had  never  been  in  the  cobbler's  hands 
before,  and  he  could  not  help  exulting  over  his 
brother. 

"  *  See  the  wisdom  of  my  choice ! '  he  said, 
holding  up  the  large  leaf  of  gold.  *  As  for  yours,  as 
good  might  be  plucked  from  any  hedge.  I  wonder 
a  sensible  bird  would  carry  the  like  so  far.' 


28  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

"  *  Good  master  cobbler,'  cried  the  cuckoo, 
finishing  the  slice,  *  your  conclusions  are  more 
hasty  than  courteous.  If  your  brother  be  dis- 
appointed this  time,  I  go  on  the  same  journey  every 
year,  and  for  your  hospitable  entertainment  will 
think  it  no  trouble  to  bring  each  of  you  whichever 
leaf  you  desire.' 

"  *  Darling  cuckoo ! '  cried  Scrub,  *  bring  me  a 
golden  one  ' ;  and  Spare,  looking  up  from  the  green 
leaf  on  which  he  gazed  as  though  it  were  a  crown- 
jewel,  said 

"  *  Be  sure  to  bring  me  one  from  the  merry 
tree,'  and  away  flew  the  cuckoo. 

"  *  This  is  the  Feast  of  All  Fools,  and  it  ought 
to  be  your  birthday,'  said  Scrub.  *  Did  ever  man 
fling  away  such  an  opportunity  of  getting  rich! 
Much  good  your  merry  leaves  will  do  in  the  midst 
of  rags  and  poverty ! '  So  he  went  on,  but  Spare 
laughed  at  him,  and  answered  with  quaint  old 
proverbs  concerning  the  cares  that  come  with  gold, 
till  Scrub,  at  length  getting  angry,  vowed  his 
brother  was  not  fit  to  live  with  a  respectable  man; 
and  taking  his  lasts,  his  awls,  and  his  golden 


TKe  CKristmas  CucKoo  29 

I  leaf,  he  left  the  wattle  hut,  and  went  to  tell  the 

i  villagers. 

"They  were  astonished  at  the  folly  of  Spare 

1  and  charmed  with  Scrub's  good  sense,  particularly 

j  when  he  showed  them  the  golden  leaf,  and  told 
that  the  cuckoo  would  bring  him  one  every  spring. 
The  new  cobbler  immediately  took  him  into  part- 
nership; the  greatest  people  sent  him  their  shoes 

I  to  mend ;  Fairf  eather  smiled  graciously  upon  him, 
and  in  the  course  of  that  summer  they  were 
married,  with  a  grand  wedding  feast,  at  which  the 

I  whole  village  danced,  except  Spare,  who  was  not 
invited,  because  the  bride  could  not  bear  his  low- 

1  mindedness,  and  his  brother  thought  him  a  dis- 

I,  grace  to  the  family. 

!      "  Indeed,  all  who  heard  the  story  concluded 

1  that  Spare  must  be  mad,  and  nobody  would 
associate  with  him  but  a  lame  tinker,  a  beggar 
boy,  and  a  poor  woman  reputed  to  be  a  witch  be- 
cause she  was  old  and  ugly.  As  for  Scrub,  he 
established  himself  with  Fairf  eather  in  a  cottage 
close  by  that  of  the  new  cobbler,  and  quite  as  fine. 
There  he  mended  shoes    to  everybody's  satis- 


tir.-l 


30  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

faction,  had  a  scarlet  coat  for  holidays,  and  a  fat 
goose  for  dinner  every  wedding-day.  Fairf  eather, 
too,  had  a  crimson  gown  and  fine  blue  ribands; 
but  neither  she  nor  Scrub  were  content,  for  to 
buy  this  grandeur  the  golden  leaf  had  to  be  broken 
and  parted  with  piece  by  piece,  so  the  last  morsel 
was  gone  before  the  cuckoo  came  with  another. 

"  Spare  lived  on  in  the  old  hut,  and  worked  in 
the  cabbage  garden.  (Scrub  had  got  the  barley 
field  because  he  was  the  eldest.)  Every  day  his 
coat  grew  more  ragged,  and  the  hut  more  weather- 
beaten  ;  but  people  remarked  that  he  never  looked 
sad  nor  sour;  and  the  wonder  was,  that  from  the  |fi 
time  they  began  to  keep  his  company,  the  tinker 
grew  kinder  to  the  poor  ass  with  which  he  travelled 
the  coimtry,  the  beggar-boy  kept  out  of  mischief, 
aaid  the  old  woman  was  never  cross  to  her  cat  or 
angry  with  the  children. 

"  Every  first  of  April  the  cuckoo  came  tapping 
at  their  doors  with  the  gnldo^i  le^J  to  Scrub  and 
the  green  to  Spare.    Fairf  eather  would  have  enter- 
tained him  nobly  with  wheaten  bread  and  honey,  ' 
for  she  had  some  notion  of  persuading  him  to  bring 


TKe  CHristmas  CucKoo  31 

ttwo  gold  leaves  instead  of  one;  but  the  cuckoo 
[flew  away  to  eat  barley  bread  with  Spare,  saying 
the  was  not  fit  company  for  fine  people,  and  liked 
tthe  old  hurt  where  he  slept  so  snugly  from  Christ- 
tmas  till  Spring. 

"  Scrub  spent  the  golden  leaves,  and  Spare 
fekept  the  merry  ones;  and  I  know  not  how  many 
fyears  passed  in  this  manner,  when  a  certain  great 
llord,  who  owned  that  village  came  to  the  neigh- 
ibourhood.  His  castle  stood  on  the  moor.  It  was 
iancient  and  strong,  with  high  towers  and  a  deep 
cmoat.  All  the  cotmtry,  as  far  as  one  could  see 
from  the  highest  turret,  belonged  to  its  lord;  but 
:he  had  not  been  there  for  twenty  years,  and  would 
:not  have  come  then,  only  he  was  melancholy. 
IThe  cause  of  his  grief  was  that  he  had  been  prime- 
s-minister at  court,  and  in  high  favour,  till  son  .ebody 
told  the  crown-prince  that  he  had  spoken  dis- 
respectfully concerning  the  turrji"'*  uu  of  his 
royal  highnesses  toes,  and  the  kin^  that  he  did 
mot  lay  on  taxes  enough,  wheroon  the  north  country 
lord  was  turned  out  of  office,  and  banished  to  his 
own  estate.    There  he  lived  for  some  weeks  in 


32  Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

very  bad  temper.  The  servants  said  nothing 
would  please  him,  and  the  villagers  put  on  their 
worst  clothes  lest  he  should  raise  their  rents; 
but  one  day  in  the  harvest  time  his  lordship 
chanced  to  meet  Spare  gathering  watercresses 
at  a  meadow  stream,  and  fell  into  talk  with  the 
cobbler. 

"  How  it  was  nobody  could  tell,  but  from  the 
hour  of  that  discourse  the  great  lord  cast  away  his 
melancholy :  he  forgot  his  lost  office  and  his  court 
enemies,  the  king's  taxes  and  the  crown-prince's 
toes,  and  went  about  with  a  noble  train  htmting, 
fishing,  and  making  merry  in  his  hall,  where  all 
travellers  were  entertained  and  all  the  poor  were 
welcome.  This  strange  story  spread  through  the 
north  country,  and  great  company  came  to  the 
cobbler's  hut — rich  men  who  had  lost  their  money, 
poor  men  who  had  lost  their  friends,  beauties  who 
had  grown  old,  wits  who  had  gone  out  of  fashion^ 
all  came  to  talk  with  Spare,  and  whatever  their 
troubles  had  been,  all  went  home  merry.  The  rich 
gave  him  presents,  the  poor  gave  him  thanks. 
Spare's  coat  ceased  to  be  ragged,  he  had  bacon 


A  ROYAL  MESSENGER  WAS  SENT  TO  SPARE 


33 


34  Granny's  W^onderfvil  CKair 

with  his  cabbage,  and  the  villagers  began  to  think 
there  was  some  sense  in  him. 

"  By  this  time  his  fame  had  reached  the  capital 
city,  and  even  the  court.  There  were  a  great 
many  discontented  people  there  besides  the  king, 
who  had  lately  fallen  into  ill-humour  because  a 
neighbouring  princess,  with  seven  islands  for  her 
dowry,  would  not  marry  his  eldest  son.  So  a 
royal  messenger  was  sent  to  Spare,  with  a  velvet 
mantle,  a  diamond  ring,  and  a  command  that  he 
should  repair  to  court  immediately. 

"  '  To-morrow  is  the  first  of  April,  ^  said  Spare, 
*  and  I  will  go  with  you  two  hovirs  after  sunrise.' 

"  The  messenger  lodged  all  night  at  the  castle, 
and  the  cuckoo  came  at  sunrise'  with  the  merry 
leaf. 

"  *  Court  is  a  fine  place,'  he  said  when  the 
cobbler  told  him  he  was  going ;  *  but  I  cannot  come 
there,  they  would  lay  snares  and  catch  me;  so  be 
careful  of  the  leaves  I  have  brought  you,  and  give 
me  a  farewell  slice  of  barley  bread.' 

"  Spare  v/as  sorry  to  part  with  the  cuckoo,  little 
as  he  had  of  his  company ;  but  he  gave  him  a  slice 


THe  CHristmas  CucKoo  35 

which  would  have  broken  Scrub's  heart  in  former 
times,  it  was  so  thick  and  large ;  and  having  sewed 
up  the  leaves  in  the  lining  of  his  leathern  doublet, 
he  set  out  with  the  messenger  on  his  way  to  court. 

"  His  coming  caused  great  surprise  there. 
Everybody  wondered  what  the  king  could  see  in 
such  a  common-looking  man;  but  scarce  had  his 
majesty  conversed  with  him  half  an  hour,  "vhen 
the  princess  and  her  seven  island  were  forgotten, 
and  orders  given  that  a  feast  for  all  comers  should 
be  spread  in  the  banquet  haU.  The  princess  of  the 
blood,  the  great  lords  and  ladies,  ministers  of  state, 
and  judges  of  the  land,  after  that  discoursed  with 
Spare,  and  the  more  they  talked  the  lighter  grew 
their  hearts,  so  that  such  changes  had  never  been 
seen  at  court.  The  lords  forgot  their  spites  and 
the  ladies  their  envies,  the  princes  and  ministers 
made  friends  among  themselves,  and  the  judges 
showed  no  favour. 

"  As  for  Spare,  he  had  a  chamber  assigned  him 
in  the  palace,  and  a  seat  at  the  king's  table ;  one 
sent  him  rich  robes  and  another  costly  jewels ;  but 
in  the  midst  of  all  his  grandeur  he  still  wore  the 


36  Granny's  ^V^onderful  CKair 

leathern  doublet,  which  the  palace  servants  thought 
remarkably  mean.  One  day  the  king's  attention 
being  drawn  to  it  by  the  chief  page,  his  majesty 
inquired  why  Spare  didn't  give  it  to  a  beggar  ?  But 
the  cobbler  answered: 

"  *  High  and  mighty  monarch,  this  doublet 
was  with  me  before  silk  and  velvet  came — I  find 
it  easier  to  wear  than  the  court  cut;  moreover,  it 
serves  to  keep  me  humble,  by  recalling  the  days 
when  it  was  my  holiday  garment.' 

"  The  king  thought  this  a  wise  speech,  and 
commanded  that  no  one  should  find  fault  with  the 
leathern  doublet.  So  things  went,  till  tidings  of 
his  brother's  good  fortune  reached  Scrub  in  the 
moorland  cottage  on  another  first  of  April,  when 
the  cuckoo  came  with  two  golden  leaves,  because 
he  had  none  to  carry  for  Spare. 

"*Thmk  of  that!'  said  Fairfeather.  *  Here 
we  are  spending  our  lives  in  this  humdnmi  place, 
and  Spare  making  his  fortune  at  court  with  two  or 
three  paltry  green  leaves!  What  would  they  say 
to  our  golden  ones  ?  Let  us  pack  up  and  make  our 
way  to  the  king's  palace;  I'm  sure  he  will  maka 


XKe  Christmas  CucKoo  37 

you  a  lord  and  me  a  lady  of  honour,  not  to  speak  of 
all  the  fine  clothes  and  presents  we  shall  have.* 

"  Scrub  thought  this  excellent  reasoning,  and 
their  packing  up  began :  but  it  was  soon  found  that 
the  cottage  contained  few  things  fit  for  carrying  to 
court.  Fairf  eather  could  not  think  of  her  wooden 
bowls,  spoons,  and  trenchers  being  seen  there. 
Scrub  considered  his  lasts  and  awls  better  left 
behind,  as  without  them,  he  concluded,  no  one 
would  suspect  him  of  being  a  cobbler.  So  putting 
on  their  holiday  clothes,  Fairfeather  took  her 
looking-glass  and  Scrub  his  drinking-horn,  which 
happened  to  have  a  very  thin  rim  of  silver,  and 
each  carrying  a  golden  leaf  carefully  wrapped  up 
that  none  might  see  it  till  they  reached  the  palace, 
the  pair  set  out  in  great  expectation. 

"  How  far  Scrub  and  Fairfeather  journeyed  I 
cannot  say,  but  when  the  sun  was  high  and  warm 
at  noon,  they  came  into  a  wood  both  tired  and 
hungry. 

"  *  If  I  had  known  it  was  so  far  to  court,'  said 
Scrub,  *  I  would  have  brought  the  end  of  that  barley 
loaf  which  we  left  in  the  cupboard.* 


38  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

"  *  Husband,'  said  Fairfeather,  *  you  shouldn't 
have  such  mean  thoughts;  how  could  one  eat 
barley  bread  on  the  way  to  a  palace  ?  Let  us  rest 
ourselves  under  this  tree,  and  look  at  our  golden 
leaves  to  see  if  they  are  safe.'  In  looking  at  the 
leaves,  and  talking  of  their  fine  prospects,  Scrub 
and  Fairfeather  did  not  perceive  that  a  very  thin 
old  woman  had  slipped  from  behind  the  tree,  with  a 
long  staff  in  her  hand  and  a  great  wallet  by  her 
side. 

"  *  Noble  lord  and  lady,'  she  said,  *  for  I  know 
ye  are  such  by  your  voices,  though  my  eyes  are 
dim  and  my  hearing  none  of  the  sharpest,  will  ye 
condescend  to  tell  me  where  I  may  find  some  water 
to  mix  a  bottle  of  mead  which  I  carry  in  my  wallet, 
because  it  is  too  strong  for  me  ?  ' 

"  As  the  old  woman  spoke,  she  pulled  out  ^a 
large  wooden  bottle  such  as  shepherds  used  in  the 
ancient  times,  corked  with  leaves  rolled  together, 
and  having  a  small  wooden  cup  hanging  from  its 
handle. 

"  *  Perhaps  ye  will  do  me  the  favour  to  taste,' 
she  said.     *  It  is  only  made  of  the  best  honey.     I 


*'  THe  CHristmas  CucKoo 


39 


have  also  cream  cheese,  and  a  wheaten  loaf  here, 
if  such  honourable  persons  as  you  would  eat  the 
like.' 

"  Scrub  and  Fairfeather  became  very  conde- 
scending after  this  speech.  They  were  now  sure 
that  there  must  be  some  appearance  of  nobility 
about  them;  besides,  they  were  very  hungry,  and 
having  hastily  wrapped  up  the  golden  leaves,  they 
assxired  the  old  woman  they  were  not  at  all  proud, 
notwithstanding  the  lands  and  castles  they  had  left 
behind  them  in  the  north  country,  and  would  will- 
ingly help  to  lighten  the  wallet.  The  old  woman 
could  scarcely  be  persuaded  to  sit  down  for  pure 
humility,  but  at  length  she  did,  and  before  the 
wallet  was  half  empty,  Scrub  and  Fairfeather 
firmly  believed  that  there  must  be  something  re- 
markably noble-looking  about  them.  This  was 
not  entirely  owing  to  her  ingenious  discourse.  The 
old  woman  was  a  wood-witch ;  her  name  was  But- 
tertongue;  and  all  her  time  was  spent  in  making 
mead,  which,  being  boiled  with  curious  herbs  and 
spells,  had  the  power  of  making  all  who  drank 
it  fall  asleep  and  dream  with  their  eyes  open. 


40  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

She  had  two  dwarfs  of  sons;  one  was  named  Spy, 
and  the  other  Pounce.  Wherever  their  mother 
went  they  were  not  far  behind;  and  whoever 
tasted  her  mead  was  sure  to  be  robbed  by  the 
dwarfs. 

'  "  Scrub  and  Fairfeather  sat  leaning  against 
the  old  tree.  The  cobbler  had  a  Itimp  of  cheese 
in  his  hand;  his  wife  held  fast  a  hunch  of  bread. 
Their  eyes  and  mouths  were  both  open,  but  they 
were  dreaming  of  great  grandeur  at  court,  when 
the  old  woman  raised  her  shrill  voice : 

"  *  What  ho,  my  sons !  come  here  and  carry 
home  the  harvest.* 

"  No  sooner  had  she  spoken,  than  the  two  little 
dwarfs  darted  out  of  the  neighbouring  thicket. 
-  "  *  Idle  boys ! '  cried  the  mother,  *  what  have 
ye  done  to-day  to  help  our  living  ?  * 

"  *  I  have  been  to  the  city,*  said  Spy,  *  and 
could  see  nothing.  These  are  hard  times  for  us — 
everybody  minds  their  business  so  contentedly 
since  that  cobbler  came;  but  here  is  a  leathern 
doublet  which  his  page  threw  out  of  the  window; 
it's  of  no  use,  but  I  brought  it  to  let  you  see  I  was 


DWARF  NAMED  SPY  STOLE  THE  DOUBLET  AND  RAN  OFF  TO  HIS  MOTHER 
IN  THE  WOOD 


4-1 


42  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

not  idle/  And  he  tossed  down  Spare's  doublet, 
with  the  merry  leaves  in  it,  which  he  had  carried 
like  a  bundle  on  his  little  back. 

"  To  explain  how  Spy  came  by  it,  I  must  tell  you 
that  the  forest  was  not  far  from  the  great  city  where 
Spare  lived  in  such  high  esteem.  All  things  had 
gone  well  with  the  cobbler  till  the  king  thought  that 
it  was  quite  unbecoming  to  see  such  a  worthy  man 
without  a  servant.  His  majesty,  therefore,  to  let 
all  men  understand  his  royal  favour  toward  Spare, 
appointed  one  of  his  own  pages  to  wait  upon  him. 
The  name  of  this  youth  was  Tinseltoes,  and, 
though  he  was  the  seventh  of  the  king's  pages, 
nobody  in  all  the  court  had  grander  notions. 
Nothing  could  please  him  that  had  not  gold  or 
silver  about  it,  and  his  grandmother  feared  he 
would  hang  himself  for  being  appointed  page  to  a 
cobbler.  As  for  Spare,  if  anything  could  have 
troubled  him,  this  token  of  his  majesty's  kindness 
would  have  done  it. 

"  The  honest  man  had  been  so  used  to  serve 
himself  that  the  page  was  always  in  the  way,  but 
his  merry  leaves  came  to  his  assistance;  and,  to 


THe  CHristmas  CucKoo  43 

the  great  surprise  of  his  grandmother,  Tinseltoes 
took  wonderfully  to  the  new  service.  Some  said 
it  was  because  Spare  gave  him  nothing  to  do  but 
play  at  bowls  all  day  on  the  palace-green.  Yet 
one  thing  grieved  the  heart  of  Tinseltoes,  and  that 
was  his  master^s  leathern  doublet,  but  for  it  he 
was  persuaded  people  would  never  remember  that 
Spare  had  been  a  cobbler,  and  the  page  took  a 
deal  of  pains  to  let  him  see  how  unfashionable  it 
was  at  court;  but  Spare  answered  Tinseltoes  as  he 
had  done  the  king,  and  at  last,  finding  nothing 
better  would  do,  the  page  got  up  one  fine  morning 
earlier  than  his  master,  and  tossed  the  leathern 
doublet  out  of  the  back  window  into  a  certain  lane 
where  Spy  found  it,  and  brought  it  to  his  mother. 

"  *  That  nasty  thing ! '  said  the  old  woman ; 
*  where  is  the  good  in  it  ?  ' 

"  By  tliis  time.  Pounce  had  taken  everjrthing 
of  value  from  Scrub  and  Fairfeather — the  looking- 
glass,  the  silver-rimmed  horn,  the  husband's 
scarlet  coat,  the  wife's  gay  mantle,  and,  above  all, 
the  golden  leaves,  which  so  rejoiced  old  Butter- 
tongue  and  her  sons,  that  they  threw  the  leathern 


44  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

doublet  over  the  sleeping  cobbler  for  a  jest,  and 
went  off  to  their  hut  in  the  heart  of  the  forest. 

"  The  sun  was  going  down  when  Scrub  and 
Fairfeather  awoke  from  dreaming  that  they  had 
been  made  a  lord  and  a  lady,  and  sat  clothed  in 
silk  and  velvet,  feasting  with  the  king  in  his  palace- 
hall.  It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  find  their 
golden  leaves  and  all  their  best  things  gone. 
Scrub  tore  his  hair,  and  vowed  to  take  the  old 
woman's  life,  while  Fairfeather  lamented  sore; 
but  Scrub,  feeling  cold  for  want  of  his  coat,  put  on 
the  leathern  doublet  without  asking  or  caring 
whence  it  came. 

"  Scarcely  was  it  buttoned  on  when  a  change 
came  over  him;  he  addressed  such  merry  dis- 
course to  Fairfeather,  that,  instead  of  lamentations, 
she  made  the  wood  ring  with  laughter.  Both 
busied  themselves  in  getting  up  a  hut  of  boughs,  in 
which  Scrub  kindled  a  fire  with  a  flint  and  steel, 
which,  together  with  his  pipe,  he  had  brought 
unknown  to  Fairfeather,  who  had  told  him  the  like 
was  never  heard  of  at  court.  Then  they  found  a 
pheasant's  nest  at  the  root  of  an  old  oak,  made  a 


TKe  CKristmas  C\icKoo  45 

meal  of  roasted  eggs,  and  went  to  sleep  on  a  heap 
of  long  green  grass  which  they  had  gathered,  with 
nightingales  singing  all  night  long  in  the  old  trees 
about  them.  So  it  happened  that  Scrub  and  Fair- 
^feather  stayed  day  after  day  in  the  forest,  making 
their  hut  larger  and  more  comfortable  against  the 
winter,  living  on  wild  birds'  eggs  and  berries,  and 
never  thinking  of  their  lost  golden  leaves,  or  their 
ijourney  to  court. 

"  In  the  meantime  Spare  had  got  up  and  missed 
his  doublet.  Tinseltoes,  of  course,  said  he  knew 
jnothing  about  it.  The  whole  palace  was  searched, 
and  every  servant  questioned,  till  all  the  court 
wondered  why  such  a  fuss  was  made  about  an  old 
leathern  doublet.  That  very  day  things  came 
back  to  their  old  fashion.  Quarrels  began  among 
the  lords,  and  jealousies  among  the  ladies.  The 
king  said  his  subjects  did  not  pay  him  half  enough 
taxes,  the  queen  wanted  more  jewels,  the  servants 
took  to  their  old  bickerings  and  got  up  some  new 
ones.  Spare  found  himself  getting  wonderfully 
IduU,  and  very  much  out  of  place :  nobles  began  to 
lask  what  business  a  cobbler  had  at  the  king's 


46  Granny's  W^onderfxil  CHair 

table,  and  his  majesty  ordered  the  palace  chron- 
icles to  be  searched  for  a  precedent.  The  cobbler 
was  too  wise  to  tell  all  he  had  lost  with  that  doublet, 
but  being  by  this  time  somewhat  familiar  with 
court  customs,  he  proclaimed  a  reward  of  fifty 
gold  pieces  to  any  who  would  bring  him  news  con- 
cerning it. 

"  Scarcely  was  this  made  known  in  the  city, 
when  the  gates  and  outer  courts  of  the  palace 
were  filled  by  men,  women,  and  children,  some 
bringing  leathern  doublets  of  every  cut  and  colour; 
some  with  tales  of  what  they  had  heard  and  seen 
in  their  walks  about  the  neighbourhood;  and  so 
much  news  concerning  all  sorts  of  great  people 
came  out  of  these  stories,  that  lords  and  ladies  ran 
to  the  king  with  complaints  of  Spare  as  a  speaker  of 
slander;  and  his  majesty,  being  now  satisfied 
that  there  was  no  example  in  all  the  palace  records  i  I 
of  such  a  retainer,  issued  a  decree  banishing  the 
cobbler  for  ever  from  court,  and  confiscating  all 
his  goods  in  favour  of  Tinseltoes. 

"  That  royal  edict  was  scarcely  published  before 
the  page  was  in  full  possession  of  his  rich  chamber, 


THe  CKristmas  CucKoo  47 

his  costly  garments,  and  all  the  presents  the  cour- 
tiers had  given  him ;  while  Spare,  having  no  longer 
the  fifty  pieces  of  gold  to  give,  was  glad  to  make  his 
escape  out  of  the  back  window,  for  fear  of  the 
iiobles,  who  vowed  to  be  revenged  on  him,  and  the 
crowd,  who  were  prepared  to  stone  him  for  cheat- 
ing them  about  his  doublet. 

"  The  window  from  which  Spare  let  himself 
idown  with  a  strong  rope,  was  that  from  which 
iTinseltoes  had  tossed  the  doublet,  and  as  the 
cobbler  came  down  late  in  the  twilight,  a  poor 
swoodman,  with  a  heavy  load  of  fagots,  stopped  and 
stared  at  him  in  great  astonishment. 
'  "  *  What's  the  matter,  friend  ? '  said  Spare. 
Did  you  never  see  a  man  coming  down  from  a 
back  window  before  ?  * 

"  '  Why,'  said  the  woodman,  *  the  last  morning 
[  passed  here  a  leathern  doublet  came  out  of  that 
(7ery  window,  and  I'll  be  bound  you  are  the  owner 
Df  it.' 

"  *  That  I  am,  friend,'  said  the  cobbler.     *  Can 
s^ou  tell  me  which  way  that  doublet  went  ?  ' 
itJ  (    "  *  As    I  walked  on,'   said    the    woodman,   a 


48  Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

dwarf,  called  Spy,  bundled  it  up  and  ran  off  to  his 
mother  in  the  forest.* 

"  *  Honest  friend,'  said  Spare,  taking  off  the 
last  of  his  fine  clothes  (a  grass-green  mantle 
edged  with  gold),  *  I'll  give  you  this  if  you  will 
follow  the  dwarf,  and  bring  me  back  my  doublet.' 

"  *  It  would  not  be  good  to  carry  fagots  in,'  said 
the  woodman.  '  But  if  you  want  back  your  doublet, 
the  road  to  the  forest  lies  at  the  end  of  this  lane,' 
and  he  trudged  away. 

"  Determined  to  find  his  doublet,  and  sure  that 
neither  crowd  nor  courtiers  could  catch  him  in  the 
forest.  Spare  went  on  his  way,  and  was  soon  among 
the  tall  trees;  but  neither  hut  nor  dwarf  could  he 
see.  Moreover,  the  night  came  on ;  the  wood  was 
dark  and  tangled,  but  here  and  there  the  moon 
shone  through  its  alleys,  the  great  owls  flitted 
about,  and  the  nightingales  sang.  So  he  went  on, 
hoping  to  find  some  place  of  shelter.  At  last  the 
red  light  of  a  fire,  gleaming  through  a  thicket,  led 
him  to  the  door  of  a  low  hut.  It  stood  half  open, 
as  if  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  and  within  he  saw 
his  brother  Scrub  snoring  loudly  on  a  bed  of  grass, 


TKe  CKristmas  CucKoo  49 

at  the  foot  of  which  lay  his  own  leathern  doublet; 
while  Fairfeather,  in  a  kirtle  made  of  plaited 
rushes,  sat  roasting  pheasants'  eggs  by  the  fire. 

"  *  Good-evening,  mistress,'  said  Spare,  stepping 
in. 

"  The  blaze  shone  on  him,  but  so  changed  was 
her  brother-in-law  with  his  court-life,  that  Fair- 
feather  did  not  know  him,  and  she  answered  far 
more  courteously  than  was  her  wont. 

"  *  Good-evening,  master.  Whence  come  ye 
so  late?  but  speak  low,  for  my  good  man  has  sorely 
tired  himself  cleaving  wood,  and  is  taking  a  sleep, 
as  you  see,  before  supper.' 

"  *  A  good  rest  to  him,'  said  Spare,  perceiving 
he  was  not  known.  *  I  come  from  the  court  for  a 
day's  hunting,  and  have  lost  my  way  in  the  forest.' 

"  *  Sit  down  and  have  a  share  of  our  supper,' 
said  Fairfeather,  *  I  will  put  some  more  eggs  in  the 
ashes;  and  tell  me  the  news  of  court — I  used  to 
think  of  it  long  ago  when  I  was  young  and  foolish.' 

"  *  Did  you  never  go  there  ?  '  said  the  cobbler. 
*  So  fair  a  dame  as  you  would  mal^e  the  ladies 
marvel.' 


50  Granny's  ^Wonderful  CHair 

"  *  You  are  pleased  to  flatter,'  said  Fairfeather; 
*  but  my  husband  has  a  brother  there,  and  we  left 
our  moorland  village  to  try  our  fortune  also.  An 
old  woman  enticed  us  with  fair  w^ords  and  strong 
drink  at  the  entrance  of  this  forest,  where  we  fell 
asleep  and  dreamt  of  great  things;  but  when  we 
woke,  everything  had  been  robbed  from  us — my 
looking-glass,  my  scarlet  cloak,  my  husband's 
Sunday  coat;  and,  in  place  of  all,  the  robbers  left 
him  that  old  leathern  doublet,  which  he  has  worn 
ever  since,  and  never  was  so  merry  in  all  his  life, 
though  we  live  in  this  poor  hut.' 

"  *  It  is  a  shabby  doublet,  that,'  said  Spare, 
taking  up  the  garment,  and  seeing  that  it  was  his 
own,  for  the  merry  leaves  were  still  sewed  in  its 
lining.  *  It  would  be  good  for  hunting  in,  however 
— ^your  husband  would  be  glad  to  part  with  it,  I 
dare  say,  in  exchange  for  this  handsome  cloak ' ; 
and  he  pulled  off  the  green  mantle  and  buttoned 
on  the  doublet,  much  to  Fairfeather's  delight, 
who  ran  and  shook  Scrub,  crying: 

"  *  Husband !  husband !  rise  and  see  what  a  good 
bargain  I  have  made.' 


THe  CHristmas  CucKoo  51 

"  Scrub  gave  one  closing  snore,  and  muttered 
something  about  the  root  being  hard;  but  he 
rubbed  his  eyes,  gazed  up  at  his  brother,  and  said : 

"  *  Spare,  is  that  really  you  ?  How  did  you  like 
the  court,  and  have  you  made  your  fortune  ?  ' 

"  *  That  I  have,  brother,'  said  Spare,  *  in  getting 
back  my  own  good  leathern  doublet.  Come,  let 
us  eat  eggs,  and  rest  ourselves  here  this  night. 
In  the  morning  we  will  return  to  our  own  old  hut, 
at  the  end  of  the  moorland  village  where  the  Christ- 
mas Cuckoo  will  come  and  bring  us  leaves.' 

"  Scrub  and  Fairfeather  agreed.  So  in  the 
morning  they  all  returned,  and  found  the  old 
hut  little  the  worse  for  wear  and  weather.  The 
neighbomrs  came  about  them  to  ask  the  news  of 
court,  and  see  if  they  had  made  their  fortune. 
Everybody  was  astonished  to  find  the  three  poorer 
than  ever,  but  somehow  they  liked  to  go  back  to 
the  hut.  Spare  brought  out  the  lasts  and  awls  he 
had  hidden  in  a  comer;  Scrub  and  he  began  their 
old  trade,  and  the  whole  north  cotmtry  found  out 
that  there  never  were  such  cobblers. 

"  They  mended  the  shoes  of  lords  and  ladies 


52  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

as  well  as  the  common  people;  everybody  was 
satisfied.  Their  custom  increased  from  day  to 
day,  and  all  that  were  disappointed,  discontented, 
or  imlucky,  came  to  the  hut  as  in  old  times,  before 
Spare  went  to  court. 

"  The  rich  brought  them  presents,  the  poor 
did  them  service.  The  hut  itself  changed,  no  one 
knew  how.  Flowering  honeysuckle  grew  over  its 
roof;  red  and  white  roses  grew  thick  about  its 
door.  Moreover,  the  Christmas  Cuckoo  always 
came  on  the  first  of  April,  bringing  three  leaves  of 
the  merry  tree — for  Scrub  and  Fairfeather  would 
have  no  more  golden  ones.  So  it  was  with  them 
when  I  last  heard  the  news  of  the  north  coimtry.  " 

"  What  a  stmmier-house  that  hut  would  make 
for  me,  mamma! "  said  the  Princess  Greedalind. 

"  We  must  have  it  brought  here  bodily,  said 
Queen  Wantall;  but  the  chair  was  silent,  and  a  lady 
and  two  noble  squires,  clad  in  russet-coloured  satin 
and  yellow  buskins,  the  like  of  which  had  never 
been  seen  at  that  court,  rose  up  and  said: 

"  That's  our  story.  " 


THe  CHristxnas  C\icKoo  53 

"  I  have  not  heard  such  a  tale,  "  said  King 
Winwealth,  "  since  my  brother  Wisewit  went  from 
me,  and  was  lost  in  the  forest.  Redheels,  the 
seventh  of  my  pages,  go  and  bring  this  little  maid 
a  pair  of  scarlet  shoes  with  golden  buckles." 

The  seventh  page  immediately  brought  from 
the  royal  store  a  pair  of  scarlet  satin  shoes  with 
buckles  of  gold.  Snowfiower  never  had  seen  the 
like  before,  and  joyfully  thanking  the  king,  she 
dropped  a  courtesy,  seated  herself  and  said: 
"  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  take  me  to  the  worst 
kitchen."  Immediately  the  chair  marched  away 
as  it  came,  to  the  admiration  of  that  noble  company. 

The  little  girl  v/as  allowed  to  sleep  on  some 
straw  at  the  kitchen  fire  that  night.  Next  day 
they  gave  her  ale  with  the  scraps  the  cook  threw 
away.  The  feast  went  on  with  great  music  and 
splendour,  and  the  people  clamoured  without;  but 
in  the  evening  King  Winwealth  again  fell  into  low 
spirits,  and  the  royal  command  was  told  to  Snow- 
flower  by  the  chief-scullion,  that  she  and  her  chair 
should  go  to  the  highest  banquet  hall,  for  his 
majesty  wished  to  hear  another  story. 


54 


Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 


When  Snowflower  had  washed  her  face,  and 
dusted  her  chair,  she  went  up  seated  as  before, 
only  that  she  had  on  the  scarlet  shoes.  Queen 
Wantall  and  her  daughter  looked  more  spiteful 
than  ever,  but  some  of  the  company  graciously 
noticed  Snowflower's  courtesy,  and  were  pleased 
when  she  laid  down  her  head,  saying,  "  Chair  of 
my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story.  " 

"  Listen,"  said  the  clear  voice  from  imder  the 
cushion,  "  to  the  story  of  Lady  Greensleeves." 


Zhc  Xorbs  of  the  Mbite  anb 


@  E.  P.  D.  &  Co. 


CHAPTER  m 

THE   LORDS   OF  THE   WHITE   AND   GSEY   CASTLES 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  two  noble  lords 
in  the  east  country.  Their  lands  lay  between  a 
broad  river  and  an  old  oak  forest,  whose  size  was 
so  great  that  no  man  knew  it.  In  the  midst  of  his 
land  each  lord  had  a  stately  castle ;  one  was  built 
of  the  white  freestone,  the  other  of  the  grey  granite. 
So  the  one  was  called  Lord  of  the  White  Castle, 
and  the  other  Lord  of  the  Grey. 

"  There  were  no  lords  like  them  in  all  the  east 
country  for  nobleness  and  bounty.  Their  tenants 
lived  in  peace  and  plenty;  all  strangers  were  hos- 
pitably entertained  at  their  castles;  and  every 
autumn  they  sent  men  with  axes  into  the  forest  to 
hew  down  the  great  trees,  and  chop  them  up  into 
firewood  for  the  poor.  Neither  hedge  nor  ditch 
divided  their  lands,  but  these  lords  never  disputed. 

57 


58  Granny's  W^onderfxil  CKair 

They  had  been  friends  from  their  youth.  Their 
ladies  had  died  long  ago,  but  the  Lord  of  the  Grey 
Castle  had  a  little  son,  and  the  Lord  of  the  White, 
a  little  daughter;  and  when  they  feasted  in  each 
other's  halls  it  was  their  custom  to  say,  *  When 
our  children  grow  up  they  will  marry,  and  have  our 
castles  and  our  lands,  and  keep  our  friendship  in 
memory.* 

*'  So  the  lords  and  their  little  children,  and  ten- 
ants, lived  happily  till  one  Michaelmas  night,  as 
they  were  all  feasting  in  the  hall  of  the  White 
Castle,  there  came  a  traveller  to  the  gate,  who  was 
welcomed  and  feasted  as  usual.  He  had  seen 
many  strange  sights  and  countries,  and,  Hke  most 
people,  he  liked  to  tell  his  travels.  The  lords  were 
delighted  with  his  tales,  as  they  sat  round  the  fire 
drinking  wine  after  supper,  and  at  length  the  Lord 
of  the  White  Castle,  who  was  very  curious,  said : 

"  *  Good  stranger,  what  was  the  greatest 
wonder  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  travels  ?  ' 

*'  *  The  most  wonderful  sight  that  ever  I  saw,' 
replied  the  traveller,  *  was  at  the  end  of  yonder 
forest,  where  in  an  ancient  wooden  house  there  sits 


TKe  Lords  of  tHe  Castles  59 

an  old  woman  weaving  her  own  hair  into  grey 
cloth  on  an  old  crazy  loom.  When  she  wants  more 
yam  she  cuts  off  her  own  grey  hair,  and  it  grows 
so  quickly  that  though  I  saw  it  cut  in  the  morning, 
it  was  out  of  the  door  before  noon.  She  told  me 
it  was  her  purpose  to  sell  the  cloth,  but  none  of  all 
who  came  that  way  had  yet  bought  any,  she  asked 
so  great  a  price ;  and,  only  the  way  is  so  long  and 
dangerous  through  that  wide  forest  full  of  boars 
and  wolves,  some  rich  lord  like  you  might  buy  it 
for  a  mantle.' 

"  All  who  heard  this  story  were  astonished ; 
but  when  the  traveller  had  gone  on  his  way  the 
Lord  of  the  White  Castle  could  neither  eat  nor 
sleep  for  wishing  to  see  the  old  woman  that  wove 
her  own  hair.  At  length  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
explore  the  forest  in  search  of  her  ancient  house, 
and  told  the  Lord  of  the  Grey  Castle  his  intention. 
Being  a  prudent  man,  this  lord  replied  that  travel- 
ler's tales  were  not  always  to  be  trusted,  and 
earnestly  advised  him  against  undertaking  such  a 
long  and  dangerous  journey,  for  few  that  went  far 
into  that  forest  ever  returned.     However,  when 


6o  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

the  curious  lord  would  go  in  spite  of  all,  he  vowed 
to  bear  him  company  for  friendship's  sake,  and 
they  agreed  to  set  out  privately,  lest  the  other 
lords  of  the  land  might  laugh  at  them.  The  Lord 
of  the  White  Castle  had  a  steward  who  had  served 
him  many  years,  and  his  name  was  Reckoning 
Robin.    To  him  he  said: 

"  *  I  am  going  on  a  long  journey  with  my  friend. 
Be  careful  of  my  goods,  deal  justly  with  my  tenants, 
and  above  all  things  be  kind  to  my  little  daughter 
Loveleaves  till  my  return '  ;  and  the  steward 
answered : 
-  >*  *  Be  sure,  my  lord,  I  will.* 

"  The  Lord  of  the  Grey  Castle  also  had  a  steward 
who  had  served  him  many  years,  and  his  name  was 
Wary  Will.    To  him  he  said : 

"  *  I  am  going  on  a  journey  with  my  friend.  Be 
careful  of  my  goods,  deal  justly  with  my  tenants, 
and  above  all  things  be  kind  to  my  little  son  Wood- 
wender  till  my  return  ' ;  and  his  steward  answered 
him: 

"  *  Be  sure,  my  lord,  I  will.' 

"  So  these  lords  kissed  their  children  while 


TTKe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  6l 

they  slept,  and  set  out  each  with  his  staff  and 
mantle  before  sunrise  through  the  old  oak  forest. 
The  children  missed  their  fathers,  the  tenants 
missed  their  lords.  None  but  the  stewards  could 
tell  what  had  become  of  them ;  but  seven  "months 
wore  away,  and  they  did  not  come  back.  The 
lords  had  thought  their  stewards  faithful,  be- 
cause they  served  so  well  under  their  eyes;  but 
instead  of  that,  both  were  proud  and  crafty,  and 
thinking  that  some  evil  had  happened  to  their 
masters,  they  set  themselves  to  be  lords  in  their 
room. 

"  Reckoning  Robin  had  a  son  called  Hardhold, 
and  Wary  "Will,  a  daughter  called  Drypenny. 
There  was  not  a  sulkier  girl  or  boy  in  the  coimtry, 
but  their  fathers  resolved  to  make  a  young  lord  and 
lady  of  them ;  so  they  took  the  silk  clothes  which 
"Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  used  to  wear,  to 
dress  them,  clothing  the  lord's  children  in  frieze 
and  canvas.  Their  garden  flowers  and  ivory  toys 
were  given  to  Hardhold  and  Dr3rpenny ;  and  at  last 
the  stewards'  children  sat  at  the  chief  tables,  and 
slept  in  the  best  chambers,  while  Woodwender 


62  Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

and  Loveleaves  were  sent  to  herd  the  swine  and 
sleep  on  straw  in  the  granary. 

"  The  poor  children  had  no  one  to  take  their 
part.  Every  morning  at  sunrise  they  were  sent 
out — each  with  a  barley  loaf  and  a  bottle  of  sour 
milk,  which  was  to  serve  them  for  breakfast, 
dinner,  and  supper — to  watch  a  great  herd  of 
swine  on  a  wide  unfenced  pasture  hard  by  the 
forest.  The  grass  was  scanty,  and  the  swine  were 
continually  straying  into  the  wood  in  search  ot 
acorns ;  the  children  knew  that  if  they  were  lost  the 
wicked  stewards  would  punish  them,  and  between 
gathering  and  keeping  their  herds  in  order,  they 
were  readier  to  sleep  on  the  granary  straw  at  night 
than  ever  they  had  been  within  their  own  silken 
curtains.  Still  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves 
helped  and  comforted  each  other,  saying  their 
fathers  would  come  back,  or  God  would  send  them 
some  friends:  so,  in  spite  of  swine-herding  and 
hard  living,  they  looked  blithe  and  handsome  as 
ever;  while  Hardhold  and  Drsrpenny  grew  crosser 
and  uglier  every  day,  notwithstanding  their  fine 
clothes  and  the  best  of  all  things. 


TKe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  63 

"  The  crafty  stewards  did  not  like  this.  They 
thought  their  children  ought  to  look  genteel,  and 
Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  like  young  swine- 
herds ;  so  they  sent  them  to  a  wilder  pasture,  still 
nearer  the  forest,  and  gave  them  two  great  black 
hogs,  more  unruly  than  all  the  rest,  to  keep.  One 
of  these  hogs  belonged  to  Hardhold,  and  the  other 
to  Drypenny.  Every  evening  when  they  came 
home  the  stewards'  children  used  to  come  down 
and  feed  them,  and  it  was  their  delight  to  reckon 
up  what  price  they  would  bring  when  properly 
fattened. 

"  One  sultry  day,  about  midsummer,  Wood- 
wender and  Loveleaves  sat  down  in  the  shadow 
of  a  mossy  rock :  the  swine  grazed  about  them  more 
quietly  than  usual,  and  they  plaited  rushes  and 
talked  to  each  other,  till,  as  the  sun  was  sloping 
down  the  sky,  "Woodwender  saw  that  the  two  great 
hogs  were  missing.  Thinking  they  must  have 
gone  to  the  forest,  the  poor  children  ran  to  search 
for  them.  They  heard  the  thrush  singing  and  the 
wood-doves  calling ;  they  saw  the  squirrels  leaping 
from  bough  to  bough,  and  the  great  deer  bounding 


64  Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

by ;  but  though  they  searched  for  hours,  no  trace  of 
the  favourite  hogs  could  be  seen.  Loveleaves  and 
Woodwender  durst  not  go  home  without  them. 
Deeper  and  deeper  they  ran  into  the  forest,  search- 
ing and  calling,  but  all  in  vain ;  and  when  the  woods 
began  to  darken  with  the  fall  of  evening,  the  chil- 
dren feared  they  had  lost  their  way. 

"  It  was  known  that  they  never  feared  the  forest, 
nor  all  the  boars  and  wolves  that  were  in  it; 
but  being  weary,  they  wished  for  some  place  of 
shelter,  and  took  a  green  path  through  the  trees, 
thinking  it  might  lead  to  the  dwelling  of  some 
hermit  or  forester.  A  fairer  way  Woodwender 
and  Loveleaves  had  never  walked.  The  grass 
was  soft  and  mossy,  a  hedge  of  wild  roses  and 
honeysuckle  grew  on  either  side,  and  the  red  light 
of  sunset  streamed  through  the  tall  trees  above. 
On  they  wer^t,  and  it  led  them  straight  to  a  great 
open  dell,  covered  with  the  loveliest  flowers, 
bordered  with  banks  of  wild  strawberries,  and  all 
overshadowed  by  one  enormous  oak,  whose  like 
had  never  been  seen  in  grove  or  forest.  Its 
branches  were  as  large  as  full-grown  trees.     Its 


THe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  65 

trunk  was  wider  than  a  country  church,  and  its 
height  like  that  of  a  castle.  There  were  mossy 
seats  at  its  great  root,  and  when  the  tired  children 
had  gathered  as  many  strawberries  as  they  cared 
for,  they  sat  down  on  one,  hard  by  a  small  spring 
that  bubbled  up  as  clear  as  crystal.  The  huge 
oak  was  covered  with  thick  ivy,  in  which  thousands 
of  birds  had  their  nests.  Woodwender  and  Love- 
leaves  watched  them  flying  home  from  all  parts 
of  the  forest,  and  at  last  they  saw  a  lady  coming 
by  the  same  path  which  led  them  to  the  dell.  She 
wore  a  gown  of  russet  colour ;  her  yellow  hair  was 
braided  and  bound  with  a  crimson  fillet.  In  her 
right  hand  she  carried  a  holly  branch;  but  the 
most  remarkable  part  of  her  attire  was  a  pair  of 
long  sleeves,  as  green  as  the  very  grass. 

"  *  Who  are  you  ?  *  she  said,  '  that  sit  so  late 
beside  my  well  ?  '  and  the  children  told  her  their 
story,  how  they  had  first  lost  the  hogs,  then  their 
way,  and  were  afraid  to  go  home  to  the  wicked 
stewards. 

"  *  Well,*  said  the  lady,  *  ye  are  the  fairest 
swineherds  that  ever  came  this  way.    Choose 


66  Granny's  W^onderfvil   CKair 

whether  ye  will  go  home  and  keep  hogs  for  Hard- 
hold  and  Drypenny,  or  live  in  the  free  forest  with 
me.* 

"  *  We  will  stay  with  you,'  said  the  children, 
*  for  we  like  not  keeping  swine.  Besides,  our 
fathers  went  through  this  forest,  and  we  may 
meet  them  some  day  coming  home.' 

"  While  they  spoke,  the  lady  slipped  her  holly 
branch  through  the  ivy,  as  if  it  had  been  a  key — 
presently  a  door  opened  in  the  oak,  and  there  was  a 
fair  house.  The  windows  were  of  rock  crystal, 
but  they  could  not  be  seen  from  without.  The 
walls  and  floor  were  covered  with  thick  green  moss, 
as  soft  as  velvet.  There  were  low  seats  and  a 
round  table,  vessels  of  carved  wood,  a  hearth 
inlaid  with  curious  stones,  an  oven,  and  a  store 
chamber  for  provisions  against  the  winter.  When 
they  stepped  in,  the  lady  said : 

"  *  A  hundred  years  have  I  lived  here,  and  my 
name  is  Lady  Greensleeves.  No  friend  or  servant 
have  I  had  except  my  dwarf  Comer,  who  comes 
to  me  at  the  end  of  harvest  with  his  handmill,  his 
pannier,  and  his  axe:  with  these  he  grinds  the 


XKe  Lords  of  tHe  Castles  67 

nuts,  and  gathers  the  berries,  and  cleaves  the 
'firewood,  and  blithely  we  live  all  the  winter. 
IBut  Comer  loves  the  frost  and  fears  the  sun,  and 
jwhen  the  topmost  boughs  begin  to  bud,  he  returns 
tto  his  country  far  in  the  north,  so  I  am  lonely  in 
Ithe  summer  time.' 

"  By  this  discourse  the  children  saw  how  wel- 
(come  they  were.  Lady  Greensleeves  gave  them 
(deer's  milk  and  cakes  of  nut-flour,  and  soft  green 
I  moss  to  sleep  on ;  and  they  forgot  all  their  troubles, 
Ithe  wicked  stewards,  and  the  straying  swine. 
I  Early  in  the  morning  a  troop  of  does  came  to  be 
)  milked,  fairies  brought  flowers,  and  birds  brought 
I  berries,  to  show  Lady  Greensleeves  what  had 
I  bloomed  and  ripened.  She  taught  the  children 
j  to  make  cheese  of  the  does'  milk,  and  wine  of  the 
f  wood-berries.  She  showed  them  the  stores  of 
1  honey  which  wild  bees  had  made,  and  left  in  hol- 
i  low  trees,  the  rarest  plants  of  the  forest,  and  the 
1  herbs  that  made  all  its  creatures  tame. 

"  All  that  summer  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves 
]  lived  with  her  in  the  great  oak-tree,  free  from  toil 
I  and  care ;  and  the  children  would  have  been  happy 


68  Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

but  they  could  hear  no  tidings  of  their  fathers.  At 
last  the  leaves  began  to  fade,  and  the  flowers  to 
fall ;  Lady  Greensleeves  said  that  Comer  was  com- 
ing; and  one  moonlight  night  she  heaped  sticks 
on  the  fire,  and  set  her  door  open,  when  Wood- 
wender  and  Loveleaves  were  going  to  sleep,  saying 
she  expected  some  old  friends  to  tell  her  the  news 
of  the  forest. 

"  Loveleaves  was  not  quite  so  curious  as  her 
father,  the  Lord  of  the  White  Castle :  but  she  kept 
awake  to  see  what  would  happen,  and  terribly 
frightened  the  little  girl  was  when  in  walked  a 
great  brown  bear. 

"  *  Good-evening,  lady,'  said  the  bear. 

"  *  Good-evening,  bear,'  said  Lady  Green- 
sleeves.  *  What  is  the  news  in  your  neighbour- 
hood ? ' 

"  *  Not  much,'  said  the  bear;  *  only  the  fawns 
are  growing  very  cimning — one  can't  catch  above 
three  in  a  day.' 

"  *  That's  bad  news,'  said  Lady  Greensleeves; 
and  immediately  in  walked  a  great  wildcat. 

"  *  Good- evening,  lady,'  said  the  cat. 


LADY  GREENSLEEVES  TALKS  WITH  THE  RAVEN 


69 


70  Granny's  "Wonderfvil  CKair 

"  *  Good-evening,  cat,'  said  Lady  Greensleeves. 
*  What  is  the  news  in  your  neighbourhood  ?  ' 

"  *  Not  much,'  said  the  cat;  *  only  the  birds  are 
growing  very  plentiful — it  is  not  worth  one's 
while  to  catch  them.' 

"  *  That's  good  news,'  said  Lady  Greensleeves; 
and  in  flew  a  great  black  raven. 

"  *  Good-evening,  lady, '  said  the  raven. 

"  *  Good-evening,  raven,'  said  Lady  Green- 
sleeves. *  What  is  the  news  in  your  neighbour- 
hood ?  * 

"  *  Not  much,'  said  the  raven;  *  only  in  a  hun- 
dred years  or  so  we  shall  be  very  genteel  and  pri- 
vate— the  trees  will  be  so  thick.' 

"  *  How  is  that  ?  '  said  Lady  Greensleeves. 

"  *  Oh! '  said  the  raven,  ^  have  you  not  heard 
how  the  king  of  the  forest  fairies  laid  a  spell  on. 
two  noble  lords,  who  were  travelling  through  his 
dominions  to  see  the  old  woman  that  weaves  her 
own  hair  ?  They  had  thinned  his  oaks  every  year 
cutting  firewood  for  the  poor :  so  the  king  met  them 
in  the  likeness  of  a  hunter,  and  asked  theni  to 
drink  out  of  his  oaken  goblet,  because  the  day  was 


XKe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  71 

warm;  and  v/hen  the  two  lords  drank,  they  forgot 
their  lands  and  their  tenants,  their  castles  and 
their  children,  and  minded  nothing  in  all  this 
world  but  the  planting  of  acorns,  which  they  do 
day  and  night,  by  the  power  of  the  spell,  in  the 
heart  of  the  forest,  and  will  never  cease  till  some 
one  makes  them  pause  in  their  work  before  the 
sun  sets,  and  then  the  spell  will  be  broken.' 
i  "  *  Ah!  *  said  Lady  Greensleeves,  *  he  is  a  great 
prince,  that  king  of  the  forest  fairies;  and  there  is 
worse  work  in  the  world  than  planting  acorns.' 
I  "  Soon  after,  the  bear,  the  cat,  and  the  raven 
bade  Lady  Greensleeves  good-night.  She  closed 
the  door,  put  out  the  light,  and  went  to  sleep  on  the 
soft  moss  as  usual. 

"  In  the  morning  Loveleaves  told  Woodwender 
; ,  what  she  had  heard,  and  they  went  to  Lady  Green- 
sleeves where  she  milked  the  does  and  said : 

*^ '  We  heard  what  the  raven  told  last  night, 
and  we  know  the  two  lords  are  our  fathers:  tell 
us  how  the  spell  may  be  broken ! ' 

"  *  I  fear  the  king  of  the  forest  fairies,'  said 
Lady  Greensleeves,  '  because  I  live  here  alone, 


72  Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

and  have  no  friend  but  my  dwarf  Comer;  but  I 
will  tell  you  what  you  may  do.  At  the  end  of  the 
path  which  leads  from  this  dell  turn  your  faces 
to  the  north,  and  you  will  find  a  narrow  way 
sprinkled  over  with  black  feathers — keep  that 
path,  no  matter  how  it  winds,  and  it  will  lead  you 
straight  to  the  ravens'  neighbourhood,  where  you 
will  find  your  fathers  planting  acorns  under  the 
forest  trees.  Watch  till  the  sun  is  near  setting, 
and  tell  them  the  most  wonderful  things  you  know 
to  make  them  forget  their  work;  but  be  sure  to 
tell  nothing  but  truth,  and  drink  nothing  but  run- 
ning water,  or  you  will  fall  into  the  power  of  the 
fairy  king.' 

"  The  children  thanked  her  for  this  good  counsel. 
She  packed  up  cakes  and  cheese  for  them  in  a  bag 
of  woven  grass,  and  they  soon  found  the  narrow 
way  sprinkled  over  with  black  feathers.  It  was 
very  long,  and  woimd  through  the  thick  trees  in  so 
many  circles  that  the  children  were  often  weary, 
and  sat  down  to  rest.  When  the  night  came,  they 
found  a  mossy  hollow  in  the  tnxnk  of  an  old  tree, 
where  they  laid  themselves  down,  and  slept  all  the 


THe  Lords  of  tHe  Castles  73 

summer  night — ^for  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves 
never  feared  the  forest.  So  they  went,  eating  their 
cakes  and  cheese  when  they  were  hungry,  drink- 
ing from  the  running  stream,  and  sleeping  in  the 
hollow  trees,  till  on  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day 
they  came  into  the  ravens'  neighbourhood.  The 
tall  trees  were  laden  with  nests  and  black  with 
ravens.  There  was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  con- 
tinual cawing;  and  in  a  great  opening  where  the 
oaks  grew  thinnest,  the  children  saw  their  own 
fathers  busy  planting  acorns.  Each  lord  had  on 
the  velvet  mantle  in  which  he  left  his  castle,  but 
it  was  worn  to  rags  with  rough  work  in  the  forest. 
Their  hair  and  beards  had  grown  long;  their  hands 
were  soiled  with  earth;  each  had  an  old  wooden 
spade,  and  on  all  sides  lay  heaps  of  acorns.  The 
children  called  them  by  their  names,  and  ran  to 
kiss  them,  each  saying: — *  Dear  father,  come  back 
to  your  castle  and  your  people ! '  but  the  lords 
replied: 

"  *  We  know  of  no  castles  and  no  people.  There 
is  nothing  in  all  this  world  but  oak-trees  and 
acorns.' 


74  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

"  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  told  them  of  all 
their  former  state  in  vain — nothing  would  make 
them  pause  for  a  minute :  so  the  poor  children  first 
sat  down  and  cried,  and  then  slept  on  the  cold 
grass,  for  the  sxm  set,  and  the  lords  worked  on. 
When  they  awoke  it  was  broad  day ;  Woodwender 
cheered  up  his  friend,  saying : — '  We  are  hungry, 
and  there  are  still  two  cakes  in  the  bag,  let  us  share 
one  of  them — who  knows  but  something  may 
happen  ? ' 

"  So  they  divided  the  cake,  and  ran  to  the  lords, 
saying:  *  Dear  fathers,  eat  with  us'  ;  but  the  lords 
said: 

"  *  There  is  no  use  for  meat  or  drink.  Let 
us  plant  our  acorns/ 

"  Loveleaves  and  Woodwender  sat  down,  and 
ate  that  cake  in  great  sorrow.  When  they  had 
finished,  both  went  to  a  stream  hard  by,  and  began 
to  drink  the  clear  water  with  a  large  acorn  shell; 
and  as  they  drank  there  came  through  the  oaks  a 
gay  young  hunter,  his  mantle  was  green  as  the 
grass;  about  his  neck  there  hung  a  crystal  bugle, 
and  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  huge  oaken  goblet, 


THe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  75 

carved  with  flowers  and  leaves,  and  rimmed  with 
crystal.  Up  to  the  brim  it  was  filled  with  milk, 
on  which  the  rich  cream  floated ;  and  as  the  hunter 
came  near,  he  said:  *  Fair  children,  leave  that 
muddy  water,  and  come  and  drink  with  me'  ; 
but  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  answered: 

"  *  Thanks,  good  hunter;  but  we  have  promised 
to  drink  nothing  but  running  water/  Still  the 
hunter  came  nearer  with  his  goblet,  saying: 

"  *  The  water  is  foul:  it  may  do  for  swineherds 
and  woodcutters,  but  not  for  such  fair  children  as 
you.  Tell  me,  are  you  not  the  children  of  mighty 
kings?  Were  you  not  reared  in  palaces  ?  '  But 
the  boy  and  girl  answered  him: 

"  *  No :  we  were  reared  in  castles,  and  are  the 
children  of  yonder  lords;  tell  us  how  the  spell 
that  is  upon  them  may  be  broken! '  and  immedi- 
ately the  hunter  turned  from  them  with  an  angry 
look,  poured  out  the  milk  upon  the  ground,  and 
went  away  with  his  empty  goblet. 

"  Loveleaves  and  Woodwender  were  sorry  to 
see  the  rich  cream  spilled,  but  they  remembered 
Lady    Greensleeves'    warning,    and    seeing   they 


76  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

could  do  no  better,  each  got  a  withered  branch  and 
began  to  help  the  lords,  scratching  up  the  ground 
with  the  sharp  end,  and  planting  acorns ;  but  their 
fathers  took  no  notice  of  them,  nor  all  that  they 
could  say ;  and  when  the  sun  grew  warm  at  noon, 
they  went  again  to  drink  at  the  running  stream. 
Then  there  came  through  the  oaks  another  hunter, 
older  than  the  first,  and  clothed  in  yellow;  about 
his  neck  there  himg  a  silver  bugle,  and  in  his 
hand  he  carried  an  oaken  goblet,  carved  with  leaves 
and  fruit,  rimmed  with  silver,  and  filled  with  mead 
to  the  brim.  This  hunter  also  asked  them  to  drink, 
told  them  the  stream  was  full  of  frogs,  and  asked 
them  if  they  were  not  a  young  prince  and  princess 
dwelling  in  the  woods  for  their  pleasure?  but  when 
Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  answered  as  before : 
— *  We  have  promised  to  drink  only  running  water, 
and  are  the  children  of  yonder  lords :  tell  us  how 
the  spell  may  be  broken !  * — he  turned  from  them 
with  an  angry  look,  poured  out  the  mead,  and 
went  his  way. 

"  All  that  afternoon  the  children  worked  beside 
their  fathers,  planting  acorns  with  the  withered 


TKe  Lords  of  tHe  Castles  77 

branches ;  but  the  lords  would  mind  neither  them 
nor  their  words.  And  when  the  evening  drew  near 
they  were  very  hungry;  so  the  children  divided 
their  last  cake,  and  when  no  persuasion  would 
make  the  lords  eat  with  them,  they  went  to  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  and  began  to  eat  and  drink, 
though  their  hearts  were  heavy. 

"  The  sun  was  getting  low,  and  the  ravens  were 
coming  home  to  their  nests  in  the  high  trees ;  but 
one,  that  seemed  old  and  weary,  alighted  near 
them  to  drink  at  the  stream.  As  they  ate  the  raven 
lingered,  and  picked  up  the  small  crumbs  that 
fell. 

"  *  Friend,  *  said  Loveleaves,  *  this  raven  is 
surely  hungry ;  let  us  give  it  a  little  bit,  though  it  is 
our  last  cake.* 

"  Woodwender  agreed,  and  each  gave  a  bit  to 
the  raven ;  but  its  great  bill  finished  the  morsels  in 
a  moment,  and  hopping  nearer,  it  looked  them  in 
the  face  by  turns. 

"  *  The  poor  raven  is  still  hungry,'  said  Wood- 
wender, and  he  gave  it  another  bit.  When  that 
was  gobbled,  it  came  to  Loveleaves,  who  gave  it  a 


78  Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

bit  too,  and  so  on  till  the  raven  had  eaten  the  whole 
of  their  last  cake. 

"  *  Well,'  said  Woodwender,  *  at  least,  we  can 
have  a  drink.'  But  as  they  stooped  to  the  water, 
there  came  through  the  oaks  another  hunter,  older 
than  the  last,  and  clothed  in  scarlet;  about  his 
neck  there  hung  a  golden  bugle,  and  in  his  hand 
he  carried  a  huge  oaken  goblet,  carved  with  ears 
of  corn  and  clusters  of  grapes,  rimmed  with  gold, 
and  filled  to  the  brim  with  wine.     He  also  said : 

"  *  Leave  this  muddy  water,  and  drink  with  me. 
It  is  full  of  toads,  and  not  fit  for  such  fair  children. 
Surely  ye  are  from  fairyland,  and  were  reared  in 
its  queen's  palace ! '    But  the  children  said: 

"  *  We  will  drink  nothing  but  this  water,  and 
yonder  lords  are  our  fathers :  tell  us  how  the  spell 
may  be  broken ! '  And  the  hunter  turned  from 
them  with  an  angry  look,  poured  out  the  wine  on  the 
grass,  and  went  his  way.  When  he  was  gone,  the 
old  raven  looked  up  into  their  faces,  and  said : 

"  *  I  have  eaten  your  last  cake,  and  I  will  tell 
you  how  the  spell  may  be  broken.  Yonder  is  the 
Sim,  going  down  behind  yon  western  trees.    Be- 


THe  Lords  of  tKe  Castles  79 

fore  it  sets,  go  to  the  lords,  and  tell  them  how 
their  stewards  used  you,  and  made  you  herd  hogs 
for  Hardhold  and  Drypenny.  When  you  see  them 
listening,  catch  up  their  wooden  spades,  and  keep 
them  if  you  can  till  the  sun  goes  down.' 

"  Woodwender  and  Loveleaves  thanked  the 
raven,  and  where  it  flew  they  never  stopped  to  see, 
but  running  to  the  lords  began  to  tell  as  they  were 
bidden.  At  first  the  lords  would  not  listen,  but  as 
the  children  related  how  they  had  been  made  to 
sleep  on  straw,  how  they  had  been  sent  to  herd 
hogs  in  the  wild  pasture,  and  what  trouble  they 
had  with  the  unruly  swine,  the  acorn  planting  grew 
slower,  and  at  last  they  dropped  their  spades. 
Then  Woodwender,  catching  up  his  father's  spade, 
ran  to  the  stream  and  threw  it  in.  Loveleaves  did 
the  same  for  the  Lord  of  the  White  Castle.  That 
moment  the  sun  disappeared  behind  the  western 
oaks,  and  the  lords  stood  up,  looking,  like  men 
just  awoke,  on  the  forest,  on  the  sky,  and  on  their 
children. 

"  So  this  strange  story  has  ended,  for  Wood- 
wender and  Loveleaves  went  home  rejoicing  with 


8o  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

their  fathers.  Each  lord  returned  to  his  castle, 
and  all  their  tenants  made  merry.  The  fine  toys 
and  the  silk  clothes,  the  flower-gardens  and  the 
best  chambers,  were  taken  from  Hardhold  and 
Dr3rpenny,  for  the  lords'  children  got  them  again ; 
and  the  wicked  stewards,  with  their  cross  boy  and 
girl,  were  sent  to  herd  swine,  and  live  in  huts  in  the 
wild  pasture,  which  everybody  said  became  them 
better.  The  Lord  of  the  White  Castle  never 
again  wished  to  see  the  old  woman  that  wove  her 
own  hair,  and  the  Lord  of  the  Grey  Castle  con- 
tinued to  be  his  friend.  As  for  Woodwender  and 
Loveleaves,  they  met  with  no  more  misfortunes, 
but  grew  up,  and  were  married,  and  inherited  the 
two  castles  and  the  broad  lands  of  their  fathers. 
Nor  did  they  forget  the  lonely  Lady  Greensleeves, 
for  it  was  known  in  the  east  country  that  she  and 
her  dwarf  Comer  always  came  to  feast  with  them  in 
the  Christmas  time,  and  at  midsummer  they  always 
went  to  Hve  with  her  in  the  great  oak  in  the  forest." 

**  Oh !  mamma,  if  we  had  that  oak ! "  said  the 
Princess  Greedalind. 


THe  Lords  of  tHe  Castles  8i 

"Where  does  it  grow?"  said  Queen  Wantall; 
but  the  chair  was  silent,  and  a  noble  lord  and  lady, 
clad  in  green  velvet,  flowered  with  gold,  rose  up 
and  said: 

"  That^s  our  story." 

"  Excepting  the  tale  of  yesterday,"  said  King 
Winwealth,  "  I  have  not  heard  such  a  story  since 
my  brother  Wisewit  went  from  me,  and  was  lost 
in  the  forest.  Gaygarters,  the  sixth  of  my  pages, 
go  and  bring  this  maiden  a  pair  of  white  silk  hose 
with  golden  clocks  on  them." 

Queen  Wantall  and  Princess  Greedalind  at  this 
looked  crosser  than  ever;  but  Gaygarters  brought 
the  white  silk  hose,  and  Snowflower,  having 
dropped  her  courtesy,  and  taken  her  seat,  was 
carried  once  more  to  the  kitchen,  where  they  gave 
her  a  mattress  that  night,  and  next  day  she  got  the 
ends  of  choice  dishes. 

The  feast,  the  music,  and  the  dancing  went  on, 
so  did  the  envies  within  and  the  clamours  without 
the  palace.  In  the  evening  King  Winwealth  fell 
again  into  low  spirits  after  supper,  and  a  message 
coming  down  from  the  banquet  hall,  the  kitchen- 


82  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

maid  t^ld  Snowflower  to  prepare  herself,  and  go  up 
with  her  grandmother's  chair,  for  his  majesty 
wished  to  hear  another  story.  Having  washed  her 
face  and  combed  her  hair,  put  on  her  scarlet  shoes, 
and  her  gold-clocked  hose,  Snowflower  went  up 
as  before,  seated  in  her  grandmother's  chair; 
and  after  courtesying  as  usual  to  the  king,  the 
queen,  the  princess,  and  the  noble  company,  the 
little  girl  laid  down  her  head,  saying — "  Chair  of 
my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story "  ;  and  a  clear 
voice  from  under  the  cushion  said: 

"  Listen  to  the  story  of  the  Greedy  Shepherd." 


tTbe  6reeb^  Sbepberb 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  GREEDY  SHEPHERD 

"  Once  Upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  south 
country  two  brothers,  whose  business  it  was  to 
keep  sheep  on  a  great  grassy  plain,  which  was 
bounded  on  the  one  side  by  a  forest,  and  on  the 
other  by  a  chain  of  high  hills.  No  one  lived  on  that 
plain  but  shepherds,  who  dwelt  in  low  cottages 
thatched  with  heath,  and  watched  their  sheep  so 
carefully  that  no  lamb  was  ever  lost,  nor  had  one  of 
the  shepherds  ever  travelled  beyond  the  foot  of  the 
hills  and  the  skirts  of  the  forest. 

"  There  were  none  among  them  more  careful 
than  these  two  brothers,  one  of  whom  was  called 
Clutch,  and  the  other  Kind.  Though  brethren 
bom,  two  men  of  distant  countries  could  not  be 
more  unlike  in  disposition.  Clutch  thought  of 
nothing  in  this  world  but  how  to  catch  and  keep 

85 


86  Granny's  'Wonderful  CHair 

some  profit  for  himself,  while  Kind  would  have 
shared  his  last  morsel  with  a  hungry  dog.  This 
covetous  mind  made  Clutch  keep  all  his  father's 
sheep  when  the  old  man  was  dead  and  gone, 
because  he  was  the  eldest  brother,  allowing  Kind 
nothing  but  the  place  of  a  servant  to  help  him  in 
looking  after  them.  Kind  wouldn't  quarrel  with 
his  brother  for  the  sake  of  the  sheep,  so  he  helped 
him  to  keep  them,  and  Clutch  had  all  his  own  way. 
This  made  him  agreeable.  For  some  time  the 
brothers  lived  peaceably  in  their  father's  cottage, 
which  stood  low  and  lonely  under  the  shadow  of 
a  great  sycamore-tree,  and  kept  their  flock  with 
pipe  and  crook  on  the  grassy  plain,  till  new  troubles 
arose  through  Clutch's  covetousness. 

"  On  that  plain  there  was  neither  town,  nor 
city,  nor  market-place,  where  people  might  sell  or 
buy,  but  the  shepherds  cared  little  for  trade.  The 
wool  of  their  flocks  made  them  clothes ;  their  milk 
gave  them  butter  and  cheese.  At  feast  times 
every  family  killed  a  lamb  or  so ;  their  fields  yielded 
them  wheat  for  bread.  The  forest  supplied  them 
with  firewood  for  winter;  and  every  midsimimer, 


TKe  Greedy  SKetDHerd  87 

which  is  the  sheep-shearing  time,  traders  from  a 
certain  far-off  city  came  through  it  by  an  ancient 
way  to  purchase  all  the  wool  the  shepherds  could 
spare,  and  give  them  in  exchange  either  goods 
or  money. 

"One  midsummer  it  so  happened  that  these 
traders  praised  the  wool  of  Clutch's  flock  above 
all  they  found  on  the  plain,  and  gave  him  the 
highest  price  for  it.  That  was  an  unlucky  happen- 
ing for  the  sheep :  from  thenceforth  Clutch  thought 
he  could  never  get  enough  wool  off  them.  At  the 
shearing  time  nobody  clipped  so  close,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  Kind  could  do  or  say,  he  left  the  poor  sheep 
as  bare  as  if  they  had  been  shaven;  and  as  soon 
as  the  wool  grew  long  enough  to  keep  them  warm, 
he  was  ready  with  the  shears  again — no  matter 
how  chilly  might  be  the  days,  or  how  near  the 
winter.  Kind  didn't  like  these  doings,  and  many 
a  debate  they  caused  between  him  and  his  brother. 
Clutch  always  tried  to  persuade  him  that  close  clip- 
ping was  good  for  the  sheep,  and  Kind  always 
strove  to  make  him  think  he  had  got  all  the  wool — 
so   they  were  never   done   with   disputes.     Still 


88  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

Clutch  sold  the  wool,  and  stored  up  his  profits, 
and  one  midsummer  after  another  passed.  The 
shepherds  began  to  think  him  a  rich  man,  and 
close  clipping  might  have  become  the  fashion,  but 
for  a  strange  thing  which  happened  to  his  flock. 

"  The  wool  had  grown  well  that  sununer.  He 
had  taken  two  crops  off  them,  and  was  thinking 
of  a  third, — though  the  misty  mornings  of  autumn 
were  come,  and  the  cold  evenings  made  the  shep- 
herds put  on  their  winter  cloaks, — ^when  first  the 
lambs,  and  then  the  ewes,  began  to  stray  away; 
and  search  as  the  brothers  would,  none  of  them 
was  ever  found  again.  Clutch  blamed  Kind  with 
being  careless,  and  watched  with  all  his  might. 
Kind  knew  it  was  not  his  fault,  but  he  looked 
sharper  than  ever.  Still  the  straying  went  on. 
The  flocks  grew  smaller  every  day,  and  all  the 
brothers  could  find  out  was,  that  the  closest  clipped 
were  the  first  to  go ;  and,  count  the  flock  when  they 
might,  some  were  sure  to  be  missed  at  the  folding. 

"  Kind  grew  tired  of  watching,  and  Clutch  lost 
his  sleep  with  vexation.  The  other  shepherds, 
over  whom  he  had  boasted  of  his  wool  and  his 


TKe  Greedy  SKepKerd  89 

profits,  were  not  sorry  to  see  pride  having  a  fall. 
Most  of  them  pitied  Kind,  but  all  of  them  agreed 
that  they  had  marvellous  ill  luck,  and  kept  as  far 
from  them  as  they  could  for  fear  of  sharing  it. 
Still  the  flock  melted  away  as  the  months  wore  on. 
Storms  and  cold  weather  never  stopped  them  from 
straying,  and  when  the  spring  came  back  nothing 
remained  with  Clutch  and  Kind  but  three  old  ewes, 
the  quietest  and  lamest  of  their  whole  flock.  They 
were  watching  these  ewes  one  evening  in  the 
primrose  time,  when  Clutch,  who  had  never  kept 
his  eyes  off  them  that  day,  said : 

"  *  Brother,  there  is  wool  to  be  had  on  their 
backs.* 

"  *  It  is  too  little  to  keep  them  warm,'  said  Kind. 
*  The  east  wind  still  blows  sometimes '  ;  but  Clutch 
was  off  to  the  cottage  for  the  bag  and  shears. 

"  Kind  was  grieved  to  see  his  brother  so  covetous 
and  to  divert  his  mind  he  looked  up  at  the  great 
hills;  it  was  a  sort  of  comfort  to  him,  ever  since 
their  losses  began,  to  look  at  them  evening  and 
morning.  Now  their  far-off  heights  were  growing 
crimson  with  the  setting  sun,  but  as  he  looked, 


QO  Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

three  creatures  like  sheep  scoured  up  a  cleft  in  one 
of  them  as  fleet  as  any  deer;  and  when  Kind 
turned,  he  saw  his  brother  coming  with  the  bag  and 
shears,  but  not  a  single  ewe  was  to  be  seen. 
Clutch's  first  question  was,  what  had  become  of 
them;  and  when  Kind  told  him  what  he  saw,  the 
eldest  brother  scolded  him  with  might  and  main 
for  ever  lifting  his  eyes  off  them : 

"  *  Much  good  the  hills  and  the  sunset  do  us,* 
said  he,  *  now  that  we  have  not  a  single  sheep. 
The  other  shepherds  will  hardly  give  us  room 
among  them  at  shearing  time  or  harvest;  but 
for  my  part,  I'll  not  stay  on  this  plain  to  be  de- 
spised for  poverty.  If  you  like  to  come  with  me, 
and  be  guided  by  my  advice,  we  shall  get  service 
somewhere.  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that 
there  were  great  shepherds  living  in  old  times 
beyond  the  hills ;  let  us  go  and  see  if  they  will  take 
us  for  sheep-boys.' 

"  Kind  would  rather  have  stayed  and  tilled 
his  father's  wheat-field,  hard  by  the  cottage;  but 
since  his  elder  brother  would  go,  he  resolved  to 
bear  him  company.    Accordingly,  next  morning 


TKe  Greedy  SKepKerd  91 

Clutch  took  his  bag  and  shears,  Kind  took  his 
crook  and  pipe,  and  away  they  went  over  the  plain 
and  up  the  hills.  All  who  saw  them  thought  that 
they  had  lost  their  senses,  for  no  shepherd  had 
gone  there  for  a  hundred  years,  and  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  wide  moorlands,  full  of  rugged  rocks, 
and  sloping  up,  it  seemed,  to  the  very  sky.  Kind 
persuaded  his  brother  to  take  the  direction  the 
sheep  had  taken,  but  the  ground  was  so  rough 
and  steep  that  after  two  hours'  climbing  they 
would  gladly  have  turned  back,  if  it  had  not  been 
that  their  sheep  were  gone,  and  the  shepherds 
would  laugh  at  them. 

"  By  noon  they  came  to  the  stony  cleft,  up  which 
the  three  old  ewes  had  scoured  like  deer ;  but  both 
were  tired,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  Their  feet  were 
sore,  and  their  hearts  were  heavy ;  but  as  they  sat 
there,  there  came  a  sound  of  music  down  the  hills, 
as  if  a  thousand  shepherds  had  been  playing  on 
their  tops.  Clutch  and  Kind  had  never  heard  such 
music  before.  As  they  listened,  the  soreness 
passed  from  their  feet,  and  the  heaviness  from 
their  hearts;  and  getting  up,  they  followed  the 


92  Granny's  ^STonderful  CKair 

sound  up  the  cleft,  and  over  a  wide  heathy  covered 
with  purple  bloom;  till  at  sunset,  they  came  to  the 
hill-top,  and  saw  a  broad  pasture,  where  violets 
grew  thick  among  the  grass,  and  thousands  of 
snow-white  sheep  were  feeding,  while  an  old  man 
sat  in  the  midst  of  them,  playing  on  his  pipe.  He 
wore  a  long  coat,  the  colour  of  the  holly  leaves; 
his  hair  hung  to  his  waist,  and  his  beard  to  his 
knees ;  but  both  were  as  white  as  snow,  and  he  had 
the  countenance  of  one  who  had  led  a  quiet  life, 
and  known  no  cares  nor  losses. 

"  *  Good  father,*  said  Kind,  for  his  eldest 
brother  hung  back  and  was  afraid,  *  tell  us  what 
land  is  this,  and  where  can  we  find  service ;  for  my 
brother  and  I  are  shepherds,  and  can  well  keep 
flocks  from  straying,  though  we  have  lost  our 
own.' 

"  *  These  are  the  hill  pastures,'  said  the  old 

/r 

man,  *  and  I  am  the  ancient  shepherd.  My  flocks 
never  stray,  but  I  have  employment  for  you. 
Which  of  you  can  shear  best  ? ' 

"  *  Good  father, '  said  Clutch,  taking  courage,  *  I 
am  the  closest  shearer  in  all  the  plain  country; 


'4 


(^E.P.D.&  Co. 


THOUSANDS  OF  SHEEP  WERE  FEEDING,  WHILE  AN  OLD  MAN  SAT  IN  THE  MIDST 
OF  THEM  PLAYING  ON  HIS  PIPE. 


XKe  Greedy  SHepKerd  93 

you  would  not  find  as  much  wool  as  would 
make  a  thread  on  a  sheep  when  I  have  done 
with  it.' 

"  *  You  are  the  man  for  my  business,'  replied 
the  old  shepherd.  *  When  the  moon  rises,  I  will 
call  the  flock  you  have  to  shear.  Till  then  sit 
down  and  rest,  and  take  your  supper  out  of  my 
wallet.' 

"  Clutch  and  Kind  gladly  sat  down  by  him  among 
the  violets,  and  opening  a  leathern  bag  which  himg 
by  his  side,  the  old  man  gave  them  cakes  and 
cheese,  and  a  horn  cup  to  drink  from  a  stream  hard 
by.  The  brothers  felt  fit  for  any  work  after  that 
meal ;  and  Clutch  rejoiced  in  his  own  mind  at  the 
chance  he  had  got  for  showing  his  skill  with  the 
shears.  *  Kind  will  see  how  useful  it  is  to  cut 
close, '  he  thought  to  himself;  but  they  sat  with  the 
old  man,  telling  him  the  news  of  the  plain,  till 
the  sun  went  down  and  the  moon  rose,  and  all  the 
snow-white  sheep  gathered  and  laid  themselves 
down  behind  him.  Then  he  took  his  pipe  and 
played  a  merry  tune,  when  immediately  there  was 
heard  a  great  howling,  and  up  the  hills  came  a 


94  Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

troop  of  shaggy  wolves,  with  hair  so  long  that  their 
eyes  could  scarcely  be  seen.  Clutch  would  have 
fled  for  fear,  but  the  wolves  stopped,  and  the  old 
man  said  to  him: 

"  *  Rise,  and  shear — this  flock  of  mine  have 
too  much  wool  on  them/ 

"  Clutch  had  never  shorn  wolves  before,  yet 
he  couldn't  think  of  losing  the  good  service,  and 
went  forward  with  a  stout  heart;  but  the  first  of 
the  wolves  showed  its  teeth,  and  all  the  rest  raised 
such  a  howl  the  moment  he  came  near  them, 
that  Clutch  was  glad  to  throw  down  his  shears, 
and  nm  behind  the  old  man  for  safety. 

"  *  Good  father,'  cried  he,  *  I  will  shear  sheep, 
but  not  wolves.' 

"  *  They  must  be  shorn,'  said  the  old  man,  *  or 
you  go  back  to  the  plains,  and  them  after  you;  but 
whichever  of  you  can  shear  them  will  get  the  whole 
flocke' 

"  On  hearing  this,  Clutch  began  to  exclaim  on 
his  hard  fortime,  and  his  brother  who  had  brought 
him  there  to  be  hunted  and  devoured  by  wolves; 
but  Kind,  thinking  that  things  could  be  no  worse, 


THe  Greedy  SKepKerd  95 

caught  up  the  shears  he  had  thrown  away  in  his 
fright,  and  went  boldly  up  to  the  nearest  wolf. 
To  his  great  surprise  the  wild  creature  seemed  to 
know  him,  and  stood  quietly  to  be  shorn,  while  the 
rest  of  the  flock  gathered  round  as  if  waiting  their 
turn.  Kind  clipped  neatly,  but  not  too  close,  as 
he  had  wished  his  brother  to  do  with  the  sheep, 
and  heaped  up  the  hair  on  one  side.  When  he 
had  done  with  one,  another  came  forward,  and 
Kind  went  on  shearing  by  the  bright  moonlight 
till  the  whole  flock  were  shorn.  Then  the  old 
man  said: 

"  *  Ye  have  done  well,  take  the  wool  and  the 
flock  for  your  wages,  return  with  them  to  the  plain, 
and  if  you  please,  take  this  Httle-worth  brother  of 
yours  for  a  boy  to  keep  them.' 

**  Kind  did  not  much  like  keeping  wolves,  but 
before  he  could  make  answer,  they  had  all  changed 
into  the  very  sheep  which  had  strayed  away  so 
strangely.  All  of  them  had  grown  fatter  and 
thicker  of  fleece,  and  the  hair  he  had  cut  off  lay  by 
his  side,  a  heap  of  wool  so  fine  and  soft  that  its  like 
had  never  been  seen  on  the  plain. 


96  Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

"  Clutch  gathered  it  up  in  his  empty  bag,  and 
glad  was  he  to  go  back  to  the  plain  with  his  brother; 
for  the  old  man  sent  them  away  with  their  flock, 
saying  no  man  must  see  the  dawn  of  day  on  that 
pasture  but  himself,  for  it  was  the  ground  of  the 
fairies.  So  Clutch  and  Kind  went  home  with  great 
gladness.  All  the  shepherds  came  to  hear  their 
wonderful  story,  and  ever  after  liked  to  keep  near 
them  because  they  had  such  good  luck.  They 
keep  the  sheep  together  till  this  day,  but  Clutch 
has  grown  less  greedy,  and  Kind  alone  uses  the 
shears." 

With  these  words  the  voice  ceased,  and  two 
shepherds,  clad  in  grass-green  and  crowned  with 
garlands,  rose  up,  and  said: 

"  That's  our  story.  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  Princess  Greedalind,  '*  what 
a  lovely  playgroimd  that  violet  pasture  would 
make  for  me !  " 

"  What  wool  could  be  had  off  all  those  snow- 
white  sheep!"  said  Queen  Wantall:  but  King 
Winwealth  said: 


THe  Greedy  SKepKerd  f>7 

"  Excepting  yesterday's  tale,  and  the  one  that 
went  before  it,  I  have  not  heard  such  a  story  as 
that  since  my  brother  Wisewit  went  from  me,  and 
was  lost  in  the  forest.  Spangledhose,  the  fifth 
of  my  pages,  rise,  and  bring  this  maiden  a  white 
satin  gown." 

Snowflower  took  the  white  satin  gown,  thanked 
the  king,  courtesied  to  the  good  company,  and 
went  down  on  her  chair  to  the  best  kitchen. 
That  night  they  gave  her  a  new  blanket,  and  next 
day  she  had  a  cold  pie  for  dinner.  The  music, 
the  feast,  and  the  spite  continued  within  the  palace; 
so  did  the  clamours  without;  and  his  majesty, 
falling  into  low  spirits,  as  usual,  after  supper,  one 
of  the  under  cooks  told  Snowflower  that  a  message 
had  come  down  from  the  highest  banquet  hall  for 
her  to  go  up  with  her  grandmother's  chair,  and 
tell  another  story.  Snowflower  accordingly  dressed 
herself  in  the  red  shoes,  the  gold-clocked  hose, 
and  the  white  satin  gown.  All  the  company 
were  glad  to  see  her  and  her  chair  coming,  ex- 
cept the  queen  and  the  Princess  Greedalind ;  and 
when  the  little  girl  had  made  her  courtesy  and 


98 


Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 


laid  down  her  head  saying,  "  Chair  of  my  grand- 
mother, tell  me  a  story,"  the  same  clear  voice 
said: 

"  Listen  to  the  story  of  Fairyfoot." 


Stores  of  J^air^foot 


ji 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   STORY   OF  FAIRYFOOT 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  stood  far  away  in  the 
west  country  a  town  called  Stumpinghame.  It 
contained  seven  windmills,  a  royal  palace,  a 
market  place,  and  a  prison,  with  every  other  con- 
venience befitting  the  capital  of  a  kingdom.  A 
capital  city  was  Stumpinghame,  and  its  inhabitants 
thought  it  the  only  one  in  the  world.  It  stood  in 
the  midst  of  a  great  plain,  which  for  three  leagues 
round  its  walls  was  covered  with  com,  flax,  and 
orchards.  Beyond  that  lay  a  great  circle  of  pas- 
ture land,  seven  leagues  in  breadth,  and  it  was 
bounded  on  all  sides  by  a  forest  so  thick  and  old 
that  no  man  in  Sttmipinghame  knew  its  extent; 
and  the  opinion  of  the  learned  was,  that  it  reached 
to  the  end  of  the  world. 

"  There  were  strong  reasons  for  this  opinion. 

lOI 


II 


102         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

First,  that  forest  was  known  to  be  inhabited  time 
out  of  mind  by  the  fairies,  and  no  hunter  cared  to 
go  beyond  its  borders — so  all  the  west  country 
believed  it  to  be  solidly  full  of  old  trees  to  the  heart. 
Secondly,  the  people  of  Stumpinghame  were  no 
travellers — ^man,  woman,  and  child  had  feet  so 
large  and  heavy  that  it  was  by  no  means  conven- 
ient to  carry  them  far.  Whether  it  was  the  nature 
of  the  place  or  the  people,  I  cannot  tell,  but  great 
feet  had  been  the  fashion  there  time  immemorial, 
and  the  higher  the  family  the  larger  were  they. 
It  was,  therefore,  the  aim  of  everybody  above 
the  degree  of  shepherds,  and  such-like  rustics,  to 
swell  out  and  enlarge  their  feet  by  way  of  gentility; 
and  so  successful  were  they  in  these  undertakings 
that,  on  a  pinch,  respectable  people's  slippers 
would  have  served  for  panniers. 

"  Stumpinghame  had  a  king  of  its  own,  and  his 
name  was  Stiff  step;  his  family  was  very  ancient 
and  large-footed.  His  subjects  called  him  Lord 
of  the  World,  and  he  made  a  speech  to  them  every 
year  concerning  the  grandeur  of  his  mighty  em- 
pire.   His  queen,  Hammerheel,  was  the  greatest 


TKe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  103 

beauty  in  Stmnpinghame.  Her  majesty's  shoe 
was  not  much  less  than  a  fishing-boat;  their  six 
children  promised  to  be  quite  as  handsome,  and 
all  went  well  with  them  till  the  birth  of  their 
seventh  son. 

"  For  a  long  time  nobody  about  the  palace  could 
understand  what  was  the  matter — the  ladies-in- 
waiting  looked  so  astonished,  and  the  king  so 
vexed;  but  at  last  it  was  whispered  through  the 
city  that  the  queen's  seventh  child  had  been  born 
with  such  miserably  small  feet  that  they  resembled 
nothing  ever  seen  or  heard  of  in  Stumpinghame, 
except  the  feet  of  the  fairies. 

"  The  chronicles  furnished  no  example  of  such 
an  aflaiiction  ever  before  happening  in  the  royal 
family.  The  common  people  thought  it  portended 
some  great  calamity  to  the  city;  the  learned  men 
began  to  write  books  about  it ;  and  all  the  relations 
of  the  king  and  queen  assembled  at  the  palace  to 
mourn  with  them  over  their  singular  misfortune. 
The  whole  court  and  most  of  the  citizens  helped 
in  this  mourning,  but  when  it  had  lasted  seven 
days  they  all  found  out  it  was  of  no  use.     So  the 


^  PUBLL  1^0  ^^  ^  i 


^-"^ll 


104         Granny's  Wonderful  OHair 

relations  went  to  their  homes,  and  the  people  took 
to  their  work.  If  the  learned  men*s  books  were 
written,  nobody  ever  read  them;  and  to  cheer  up 
the  queen's  spirits,  the  young  prince  was  sent 
privately  out  to  the  pasture  lands,  to  be  nursed 
among  the  shepherds. 

"The  chief  man  there  was  called  Fleecefold, 
and  his  wife's  name  was  Rough  Ruddy.  They 
lived  in  a  snug  cottage  with  their  son  Blackthorn 
and  their  daughter  Brownberry,  and  were  thought 
great  people,  because  they  kept  the  king's  sheep. 
Moreover,  Fleecefold's  family  were  known  to  be 
ancient;  and  Rough  Ruddy  boasted  that  she  had 
the  largest  feet  in  all  the  pastures.  The  shepherds 
held  them  in  high  respect,  and  it  grew  still  higher 
when  the  news  spread  that  the  king's  seventh  son 
had  been  sent  to  their  cottage.  People  came  from 
all  quarters  to  see  the  young  prince,  and  great 
were  the  lamentations  over  his  misfortime  in 
having  such  small  feet. 

"  The  king  and  queen  had  given  him  fourteen 
names,  beginning  with  Augustus — such  being  the 
fashion  in  that  royal  family;  but  the  honest  coun- 


TKe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  105 

try  people  could  not  remember  so  many ;  besides, 
his  feet  were  the  most  remarkable  thing  about  the 
child,  so  with  one  accord  they  called  him  Fairy- 
IJ  foot.  At  first  it  was  feared  this  might  be  high- 
treason,  but  when  no  notice  was  taken  by  the  king 
or  his  ministers,  the  shepherds  concluded  it  was 
no  harm,  and  the  boy  never  had  another  name 
throughout  the  pastures.     At  court  it  was   not 

(thought  polite  to  speak  of  him  at  all.  They  did 
not  keep  his  birthday,  and  he  was  never  sent  for 
at  Christmas,  because  the  queen  and  her  ladies 
could  not  bear  the  sight.  Once  a  year  the  under- 
most scullion  was  sent  to  see  how  he  did,  with  a 
bundle  of  his  next  brother's  cast-off  clothes ;  and, 
as  the  king  grew  old  and  cross,  it  was  said  he  had 
thoughts  of  disowning  him. 

"  So  Fairyfoot  grew  in  Fleecefold's  cottage. 
Perhaps  the  country  air  made  him  fair  and  rosy — 
for  all  agreed  that  he  would  have  been  a  handsome 
boy  but  for  his  small  feet,  with  which  nevertheless 
he  learned  to  walk,  and  in  time  to  run  and  to  jump, 
thereby  amazing  everybody,  for  such  doings  were 
not  known  among  the  children  of  Stumpingbame. 


lo6         Granny's  W^onderful  CHair 

The  news  of  court,  however,  travelled  to  the 
shepherds,  and  Fairyfoot  was  despised  among 
them.  The  old  people  thought  him  tmlucky; 
the  children  refused  to  play  with  him.  Fleece- 
fold  was  ashamed  to  have  him  in  his  cottage,  but 
he  durst  not  disobey  the  king's  orders.  Moreover, 
Blackthorn  wore  most  of  the  clothes  brought  by 
the  scullion.  At  last,  Rough  Ruddy  found  out 
that  the  sight  of  such  horrid  jimiping  would  make 
her  children  vulgar;  and,  as  soon  as  he  was  old 
enough,  she  sent  Fairyfoot  every  day  to  watch 
some  sickly  sheep  that  grazed  on  a  wild,  weedy 
pasture,  hard  by  the  forest. 

*'  Poor  Fairyfoot  was  often  lonely  and  sorrow- 
ful; many  a  time  he  wished  his  feet  would  grow 
larger,  or  that  people  wouldn't  notice  them  so 
much;  and  all  the  comfort  he  had  was  running 
and  jumping  by  himself  in  the  wild  pasture,  and 
thinking  that  none  of  the  shepherds'  children 
could  do  the  like,  for  all  their  pride  of  their  great 
feet. 

"  Tired  of  this  sport,  he  was  lying  in  the  shadow 
/>f  SL  mossy  rock  one  warm  summer's  noon,  with 


The  Story  of  Fairyfoot  107 

the  sheep  feeding  around,  when  a  robin,  pursued 
by  a  great  hawk,  flew  into  the  old  velvet  cap  which 
lay  on  the  ground  beside  him.  Fair3rfoot  covered 
it  up,  and  the  hawk,  frightened  by  his  shout,  flew 
away. 

"  *  Now  you  may  go,  poor  robin! '  he  said,  open- 
ing the  cap :  but  instead  of  the  bird,  out  sprang  a 
little  man  dressed  in  russet-brown,  and  looking 
as  if  he  were  an  hundred  years  old.  Fairyfoot 
could  not  speak  for  astonishment,  but  the  little 
man  said : 

"  *  Thank  you  for  your  shelter,  and  be  sure  I 
will  do  as  much  for  you.  Call  on  me  if  you  are 
ever  in  trouble,  my  name  is  Robin  Goodf ellow ' ; 
and  darting  off,  he  was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant. 
For  days  the  boy  wondered  who  that  little  man 
could  be,  but  he  told  nobody,  for  the  little  man's 
feet  were  as  small  as  his  own,  and  it  was  clear  he 
would  be  no  favourite  in  Stumpinghame.  Fairy- 
foot  kept  the  story  to  himself,  and  at  last  midsum- 
i  mer  came.  That  evening  was  a  feast  among  the 
shepherds.  There  were  bonfires  on  the  hills, 
and  fun  in  the  villages.    But  Fairyfoot  sat  alone 


, 


io8         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

beside  his  sheepfold,  for  the  children  of  his  village 
had  refused  to  let  him  dance  with  them  about  the 
bonfire,  and  he  had  gone  there  to  bewail  the  size 
of  his  feet,  which  came  between  him  and  so  many 
good  things.  Fairyfoot  had  never  felt  so  lonely 
in  all  his  life,  and  remembering  the  little  man,  he 
plucked  up  spirit,  and  cried: 

"  *  Ho !  Robin  Goodf ellow ! ' 

"  *  Here  I  am,*  said  a  shrill  voice  at  his  elbow; 
and  there  stood  the  little  man  himself. 

"  *  I  am  very  lonely,  and  no  one  will  play  with 
me,  because  my  feet  are  not  large  enough,*  said 
Fauyfoot. 

"  *  Come  then  and  play  with  us,'  said  the  little 
man.  *  We  lead  the  merriest  lives  in  the  world, 
and  care  for  nobody's  feet;  but  all  companies 
have  their  own  manners,  and  there  are  two  things 
you  must  mind  among  us :  first,  do  as  you  see  the 
rest  doing ;  and  secondly,  never  speak  of  anything 
you  may  hear  or  see,  for  we  and  the  people  of  this 
country  have  had  no  friendship  ever  since  large 
feet  came  in  fashion.' 

"  *  I  will  do  that,  and  anything  more  you  like,* 


I 


THe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  109 

said  Fauyf oot ;  and  the  little  man  taking  his  hand, 
led  him  over  the  pasture  into  the  forest,  and  along 
a  mossy  path  among  old  trees  wreathed  with  ivy 
(he  never  knew  how  far),  till  they  heard  the 
sound  of  music,  and  came  upon  a  meadow  where 
the  moon  shone  as  bright  as  day,  and  all  the 
flowers  of  the  year — snowdrops,  violets,  primroses, 
and  cowslips — bloomed  together  in  the  thick 
grass.  There  were  a  crowd  of  little  men  and 
women,  some  clad  in  russet  colour,  but  far  more 
in  green,  dancing  round  a  Httle  well  as  clear  as 
crystal.  And  imder  great  rose-trees  which  grew 
here  and  there  in  the  meadow,  companies  were 
sitting  round  low  tables  covered  with  cups  of 
milk,  dishes  of  honey,  and  carved  wooden  flagons 
filled  with  clear  red  wine.  The  little  man  led 
Fairyfoot  up  to  the  nearest  table,  banded  him  one 
of  the  flagons,  and  said : 

"  *  Drink  to  the  good  company! ' 

"  Wine  was  not  very  common  among  the  shep- 
herds of  Stumpinghame,  and  the  boy  had  never 
tasted  such  drink  as  that  before ;  for  scarcely  had 
it  gone  down,  when  he  forgot  all  his  troubles — 


no         Granny's  'Wonderful  CKair 

how  Blackthorn  and  Brownberry  wore  his  clothes, 
how  Rough  Ruddy  sent  him  to  keep  the  sickly 
sheep,  and  the  children  would  not  dance  with  him; 
in  short,  he  forgot  the  whole  misfortime  of  his 
feet,  and  it  seemed  to  his  mind  that  he  was  a  king's 
son,  and  all  was  well  with  him.  All  the  little 
people  about  the  well  cried: 

"*  Welcome!  welcome!'  and  every  one  said; 
— *  Come  and  dance  with  me ! '  So  Fairjrfoot 
was  as  happy  as  a  prince,  and  drank  milk  and  ate 
honey  till  the  moon  was  low  in  the  sky,  and  then 
the  little  man  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  never 
stopped  nor  stayed  till  he  was  at  his  own  bed  of 
straw  in  the  cottage  comer. 

"  Next  morning  Fairyfoot  was  not  tired  for  all 
his  dancing.  Nobody  in  the  cottage  had  missed 
him,  and  he  went  out  with  the  sheep  as  usual; 
but  every  night  all  that  summer,  when  the  shep- 
herds were  safe  in  bed,  the  Uttle  man  came  and 
took  him  away  to  dance  in  the  forest.  Now  he 
did  not  care  to  play  with  the  shepherds'  children, 
nor  grieve  that  his  father  and  mother  had  for- 
gotten him,  but  watched  the  sheep  all  day  singing 


\i 


' '  '-■- jai^'ia*iPj^<^^^!KgS=^^MiiJ;ij<^^  ■mm 


y 


C)E.P.D.&Co.  "  "   "^  ~  -"' 

ALL  THE  LITTLE  PEOPLE  CRIED,  "WELCOME,  WELCOME,". 

WITH  ME." 


"COME  DANCE 


TKe  Story  of  Fairy  foot  iii 

to  himself  or  plaiting  rushes;  and  when  the  sun 
went  down,  Fairyfoot's  heart  rejoiced  at  the 
thought  of  meeting  that  merry  company. 

"  The  wonder  was  that  he  was  never  tired  nor 
sleepy,  as  people  are  apt  to  be  who  dance  all 
night;  but  before  the  summer  was  ended  Fairyfoot 
found  out  the  reason.  One  night,  when  the  moon 
was  full,  and  the  last  of  the  ripe  com  rustling  in 
the  fields,  Robin  Goodfellow  came  for  him  as 
usual,  and  away  they  went  to  the  flowery  green. 
The  fun  there  was  high,  and  Robin  was  in  haste. 
So  he  only  pointed  to  the  carved  cup  from  which 
Fair3rfoot  every  night  drank  the  clear  red  wine. 

"  *  I  am  not  thirsty,  and  there  is  no  use  losing 
time,'  thought  the  boy  to  himself,  and  he  joined 
the  dance;  but  never  in  all  his  life  did  Fairyfoot 
find  such  hard  work  as  to  keep  pace  with  the 
company.  Their  feet  seemed  to  move  like  light- 
ning; the  swallows  did  not  fly  so  fast  or  turn  so 
quickly.  Fairyfoot  did  his  best,  for  he  never  gave 
in  easily,  but  at  length,  his  breath  and  strength 
being  spent,  the  boy  was  glad  to  steal  away,  and 
sit  down  behind  a  mossy  oak,  where  his  eyes 


I 
112         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 


closed  for  very  weariness.  When  he  awoke  the 
dance  was  nearly  over,  but  two  little  ladies  clad 
in  green  talked  close  beside  him. 

"  *  What  a  beautiful  boy!*  said  one  of  them. 
*  He  is  worthy  to  be  a  king's  son.  Only  see 
what  handsome  feet  he  has ! ' 

"  *  Yes,'  said  the  other,  with  a  laugh  that 
sounded  spiteful ;  *  they  are  just  like  the  feet 
Princess  Maybloom  had  before  she  washed  them 
in  the  Growing  Well.  Her  father  has  sent  far  and 
wide  throughout  the  whole  coimtry  searching  for  $ 
doctor  to  make  them  small  again,  but  nothing  il 
this  world  can  do  it  except  the  water  of  the  Fair 
Fountain,  and  none  but  I  and  the  nightingales 
know  where  it  is.' 

"  *  One  would  not  care  to  let  the  like  be  known,' 
said  the  first  little  lady :  *  there  would  come  such 
crowds  of  these  great  coarse  creatures  of  mankind, 
nobody  would  have  peace  for  leagues  roxmd.  But 
you  will  surely  send  word  to  the  sweet  princess ! — 
she  was  so  kind  to  our  birds  and  butterflies,  and 
danced  so  like  one  of  ourselves ! ' 

"  *  Not    I,    indeed ! '    said    the    spiteful    fairy. 


TKe  Story  of  Fairy  foot  113 

*  Her  old  skinflint  of  a  father  cut  down  the  cedar 
which  I  loved  best  in  the  whole  forest,  and  made 
a  chest  of  it  to  hold  his  money  in;  besides,  I 
never  liked  the  princess — everybody  praised  her 
so.  But  come,  we  shall  be  too  late  for  the  last 
dance.'  " 

When  they  were  gone,  Fairyfoot  could  sleep 
no  more  with  astonishment.  He  did  not  wonder 
at  the  fairies  admiring  his  feet,  because  their  own 
were  much  the  same;  but  it  amazed  him  that 
Princess  Maybloom's  father  should  be  troubled 
at  hers  growing  large.  Moreover,  he  wished  to 
see  that  same  princess  and  her  country,  since 
there  were  really  other  places  in  the  world  than 
Stumpinghame. 

"  When  Robin  Goodfellow  came  to  take  him 
home  as  usual  he  durst  not  let  him  know  that  he 
had  overheard  anything;  but  never  was  the  boy  so 
unwilling  to  get  up  as  on  that  morning,  and  all  day 
he  was  so  weary  that  in  the  afternoon  Fairjrfoot 
fell  asleep,  with  his  head  on  a  clump  of  rushes. 
It  was  seldom  that  any  one  thought  of  looking 
after  him  and  the  sickly  sheep ;  but  it  so  happened 


114         Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

that  towards  evening  the  old  shepherd,  Fleecefold, 
thought  he  would  see  how  things  went  on  in  the 
pastures.  The  shepherd  had  a  bad  temper  and  a 
thick  staff,  and  no  sooner  did  he  catch  sight  of 
Fairjrfoot  sleeping,  and  his  flock  straying  away, 
than  shouting  all  the  ill  names  he  could  remember, 
in  a  voice  which  woke  up  the  boy,  he  ran  after  him 
as  fast  as  his  great  feet  would  allow ;  while  Fairy- 
foot,  seeing  no  other  shelter  from  his  fury,  fled 
into  the  forest,  and  never  stopped  nor  stayed  till 
he  reached  the  banks  of  a  little  stream. 

"  Thinking  it  might  lead  him  to  the  fairies' 
dancing-ground,  he  followed  that  stream  for 
many  an  hour,  but  it  woimd  away  into  the  heart 
of  the  forebt,  flowing  through  dells,  falling  over 
mossy  rocks,  and  at  last  leading  Fair3rfoot,  when 
he  was  tired  and  the  night  had  fallen,  to  a  grove 
of  great  rose-trees,  with  the  moon  shining  on  it  as 
bright  as  day,  and  thousands  of  nightingales  sing- 
ing in  the  branches.  In  the  midst  of  that  grove 
was  a  clear  spring,  bordered  with  banks  of  lilies, 
and  Fairyfoot  sat  down  by  it  to  rest  himself  and 
listen.    The  singing  was  so  sweet  he  could  have 


THe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  115 

listened  for  ever,  but  as  he  sat  the  nightingales 
left  off  their  songs,  and  began  to  talk  together 
in  the  silence  of  the  night: 

"  *  What  boy  is  that,'  said  one  on  a  branch 
above  him,  *  who  sits  so  lonely  by  the  Fair  Foun- 
tain ?  He  cannot  have  come  from  Stumpinghame 
with  such  small  and  handsome  feet.' 

"  *  No,  I'll  warrant  you,'  said  another,  *  he 
has  come  from  the  west  country.  How  in  the 
world  did  he  find  the  way  ? ' 

"  *  How  simple  you  are ! '  said  a  third  nightin- 
gale. *  What  had  he  to  do  but  follow  the  ground- 
ivy  which  grows  over  height  and  hollow,  bank  and 
bush,  from  the  lowest  gate  of  the  king's  kitchen- 
garden  to  the  root  of  this  rose-tree  ?-  He  looks 
a  wise  boy,  and  I  hope  he  will  keep  the  secret, 
or  we  shall  have  all  the  west  country  here,  dabbling 
in  our  fountain,  and  leaving  us  no  rest  to  either  talk 
or  sing.' 

"  Fairyfoot  sat  in  great  astonishment  at  this 
discourse,  but  by  and  by,  when  the  talk  ceased 
and  the  songs  began,  he  thought  it  might  be  as 
well  for  him  to  follow  the  ground-ivy,  and  see  the 


Ii6         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

Princess  Maybloom,  not  to  speak  of  getting  rid  of 
Rough  Ruddy,  the  sickly  sheep,  and  the  crusty  old 
shepherd.  It  was  a  long  journey ;  but  he  went  on, 
eating  wild  berries  by  day,  sleeping  in  the  hollows 
of  old  trees  by  night,  and  never  losing  sight  of  the 
ground-ivy,  which  led  him  over  height  and  hollow, 
bank  and  bush,  out  of  the  forest,  and  along  a  noble 
high  road,  with  fields  and  villages  on  every  side, 
to  a  great  city,  and  a  low  old-fashioned  gate  of  the 
king*s  kitchen-garden,  which  was  thought  too 
mean  for  the  scullions,  and  had  not  been  opened 
for  seven  years. 

"  There  was  no  use  knocking — the  gate  was 
overgrown  with  tall  weeds  and  moss;  so,  being 
an  active  boy,  he  climbed  over,  and  walked  through 
the  garden,  till  a  white  fawn  came  frisking  by,  and 
he  heard  a  soft  voice  saying  sorrowfully: 

"  *  Come  back,  come  back,  my  fawn !  I  cannot 
run  and  play  with  you  now,  my  feet  have  grown 
so  heavy  '  ;  and  looking  round  he  saw  the  loveliest 
young  princess  in  the  world,  dressed  in  snow- 
white,  and  wearing  a  wreath  of  roses  on  her  golden 
hair;  but  walking  slowly,  as  the  great  people  did  in 


TKe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  117 

Stumpinghame,  for  her  feet  were  as  large  as  the 
best  of  them. 

"  After  her  came  six  young  ladies,  dressed  in 
white  and  walking  slowly,  for  they  could  not  go 
before  the  princess;  but  Fairyfoot  was  amazed 
to  see  that  their  feet  were  as  small  as  his  own. 
At  once  he  guessed  that  this  must  be  the  Princess 
Maybloom,  and  made  her  an  humble  bow,  saying : 

"  *  Royal  princess,  I  have  heard  of  your  trouble 
because  your  feet  have  grown  large :  in  my  coim- 
try  that's  all  the  fashion.  For  seven  years  past 
I  have  been  wondering  what  would  make  mine 
grow,  to  no  purpose ;  but  I  know  of  a  certain  foun- 
tain that  will  make  yours  smaller  and  finer  than 
ever  they  were,  if  the  king,  your  father,  gives  you 
leave  to  come  with  me,  accompanied  by  two  of  your 
maids  that  are  the  least  given  to  talking,  and  the 
most  prudent  officer  in  all  his  household;  for  it 
would  grievously  offend  the  fairies  and  the  nightin- 
gales to  m\ke  that  fountain  known.' 

"  When  the  princess  heard  that,  she  danced 
for  joy  in  spite  of  her  large  feet,  and  she  and  her 
six  maids  brought  Fairyfoot  before  the  king  and 


Ii8         Granny's  W^onderful  CHair 

queen,  where  they  sat  in  their  palace  hall,  with  all 
the  courtiers  paying  their  morning  compliments. 
The  lords  were  very  much  astonished  to  see  a 
ragged,  bare-footed  boy  brought  in  among  them, 
and  the  ladies  thought  Princess  Maybioom  must 
have  gone  mad;  but  Fairyfoot,  making  an  humble 
reverence,  told  his  message  to  the  king  and 
queen,  and  offered  to  set  out  with  the  princess  that 
very  day.  At  first  the  king  would  not  believe 
that  there  could  be  any  use  in  his  offer,  because 
so  many  great  physicians  had  failed  to  give  any 
relief.  The  courtiers  laughed  Fairyfoot  to  scorn, 
the  pages  wanted  to  turn  him  out  for  an  impudent 
impostor,  and  the  prime-minister  said  he  ought  to 
be  put  to  death  for  high-treason. 

*'  Fairyfoot  wished  himself  safe  in  the  forest 
again,  or  even  keeping  the  sickly  sheep;  but  the 
queen,  being  a  prudent  woman,  said: 

**  *  I  pray  your  majesty  to  notice  what  fine  fert 
v-xS  boy  has.  There  may  be  some  truth  in  Jiis 
story.  For  the  sake  of  our  only  daughter,  I  ^^ill 
choose  two  maids  who  talk  the  least  of  all  ur 
train,  and  my  chamberlain,  who  is  the  most  dis- 


TKe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  119 

creet  officer  in  our  household.  Let  them  go  with 
the  princess:  who  knows  but  our  sorrow  may  be 
lessened  ? ' 

"  After  some  persuasion  the  king  consented, 
though  all  his  councillors  advised  the  contrary. 
So  the  two  silent  maids,  the  discreet  chamberlain, 
and  her  fawn,  which  would  not  stay  behind,  were 
sent  with  Princess  Maybloom,  and  they  all  set 
out  after  dinner.  Fairyfoot  had  hard  work  guiding 
them  along  the  track  of  the  ground-ivy.  The 
maids  and  the  chamberlain  did  not  like  the 
brambles  and  rough  roots  of  the  forest — they 
thought  it  hard  to  eat  berries  and  sleep  in  hollow 
trees ;  but  the  princess  went  on  with  good  courage, 
and  at  last  they  reached  the  grove  of  rose-trees, 
and  the  spring  bordered  with  lilies. 

"  The  chamberlain  washed — and  though  his  hair 
had  been  grey,  and  his  face  wrinkled,  the  young 
r  ourtiers  envied  his  beauty  for  years  after.  The 
maids  washed — and  from  that  day  they  wL-c; 
esteemed  the  fairest  in  all  the  palace.  Lastly,  the 
pre  icess  washed  also — it  could  make  her  no  fairer, 
but   the  moment  her  feet    touched    the   water 


120         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

they  grew  less,  and  when  she  had  washed  and 
dried  them  three  times,  they  were  as  small  and 
finely  shaped  as  Fairyf  oot's  own.  There  was  great 
joy  among  them,  but  the  boy  said  sorrowfully : 

"  *  Oh!  if  there  had  been  a  well  in  the  world 
to  make  my  feet  large,  my  father  and  mother 
would  not  have  cast  me  off,  nor  sent  me  to  live 
among  the  shepherds.' 

"  *  Cheer  up  your  heart,'  said  the  Princess 
Maybloom ;  '  if  you  want  large  feet,  there  is  a  well 
in  this  forest  that  will  do  it.  Last  simmier  time, 
I  came  with  my  father  and  his  foresters  to  see  a 
great  cedar  cut  down,  of  which  he  meant  to  make 
a  money  chest.  While  they  were  busy  with  the  ce- 
dar, I  saw  a  bramble  branch  covered  with  berries. 
Some  were  ripe  and  some  were  green,  but  it  was 
the  longest  bramble  that  ever  grew;  for  the  sake 
of  the  berries,  I  went  on  and  on  to  its  root,  which 
grew  hard  by  a  muddy-looking  well,  with  banks 
of  dark  green  moss,  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  for- 
est. The  day  was  warm  and  dry,  and  my  feet 
were  sore  with  the  rough  ground,  so  I  took  off  my 
scarlet  shoes,  and  washed  my  feet  in  the  well;  but 


II 


TKe  Story  of  Fairyfoot  121 

as  I  washed  they  grew  larger  every  minute,  and 
nothing  could  ever  make  them  less  again.  I  have 
seen  the  bramble  this  day;  it  is  not  far  off,  and 
as  you  have  shown  me  the  Fair  Fountain,  I  will 
show  you  the  Growing  Well.* 

"  Up  rose  Fairyfoot  and  Princess  Maybloom, 
and  went  together  till  they  found  the  bramble,  and 
came  to  where  its  root  grew,  hard  by  the  muddy- 
looking  well,  with  banks  of  dark  green  moss  in  the 
deepest  dell  of  the  forest.  Fairjrfoot  sat  down  to 
wash,  but  at  that  minute  he  heard  a  sound  of  music, 
and  knew  it  was  the  fairies  going  to  their  dancing 
ground. 

"  *  If  my  feet  grow  large,'  said  the  boy  to  him- 
self, *  how  shall  I  dance  with  them  ?  *  So,  rising 
quickly,  he  took  the  Princess  Maybloom  by  the 
hand.  The  fawn  followed  them;  the  maids  and 
the  chamberlain  followed  it,  and  all  followed  the 
music  through  the  forest.  At  last  they  came  to 
the  flowery  green.  Robin  Goodfellow  welcomed 
the  company  for  Fairyfoot's  sake,  and  gave  every 
one  a  drink  of  the  fairies'  wine.  So  they  danced 
there  from  sunset  till  the  grey  morning,  and  nobody 


122         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

was  tired ;  but  before  the  lark  sang,  Robin  Good- 
fellow  took  them  all  safe  home,  as  he  used  to 
take  Fairyfoot. 

"  There  was  great  joy  that  day  in  the  palace  be- 
cause Princess  Maybloom's  feet  were  made  small 
again.    The  king  gave  fi'airvf ^        '  •  of  fine 

clothes  and  rich  jewc  ...  ^  his 

wonderful  story,  he  and  the  queen  asked  him  to 
live  with  them  and  be  their  son.  In  process  of 
time  Fairyfoot  and  Princess  Maybloom  were 
married,  and  still  live  happily.  When  they  go  to 
visit  at  Stumpinghame,  they  always  wash  their 
feet  in  the  Growing  Well,  lest  the  royal  family 
might  think  them  a  disgrace,  but  when  they  come 
back,  they  make  haste  to  the  Fair  Fountain;  and 
the  fairies  and  the  nightingales  are  great  friends 
to  them,  as  well  as  the  maids  and  the  chamberlain, 
because  they  have  told  nobody  about  it,  and  there 
is  peace  and  quiet  yet  in  the  grove  of  rose-trees." 

Here  the  voice  out  of  the  cushion  ceased,  and 
two  that  wore  crowns  of  gold,  and  were  clothe!  in 
cloth  of  silver,  rose  up,  and  said ; 


TKe  Story  of  Fairy  foot  123 

"  That's  our  story." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Princess  Greedalind,  "  if  we 
could  find  out  that  Fair  Fountain,  and  keep  it 
all  to  ourselves !  " 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  and  the  Growing  Well  to 
wash  our  money  in,"  replied  Queen  "Wantall: 
but  King  Winwealth  said:  '^i 

"  Excepting  yesterday's  tale,  and  the  two  that 
went  before  it,  I  have  not  heard  such  a  story  since 
my  brother  Wisewit  went  from  me,  and  was  lost 
in  the  forest.  Silverspurs,  the  fourth  of  my  pages, 
go  and  bring  this  maiden  a  pearl  necklace." 

Snowfiower  received  the  necklace  accordingly, 
gave  her  thanks,  made  her  courtesy,  and  went 
down  on  her  grandmother's  chair  to  the  servants' 
hall.  That  night  they  gave  her  a  down  pillow, 
and  next  day  she  dined  on  a  roast  chicken.  The 
feasting  within  and  the  clamour  without  went  on 
as  the  days  before:  King  V/inwealth  fell  into  his 
accustomed  low  spirits  after  supper,  and  sent  down 
a  message  for  Snowfiower,  which  was  told  her  by 
the  master-cook.  So  the  little  girl  went  up  in  her 
grandmother's  chair,  with  red  shoes,  the  clocked 


124         Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

hose,  the  white  satin  gown,  and  the  pearl  neck- 
lace on.  All  the  company  welcomed  her  with 
joyful  looks,  and  no  sooner  had  she  made  her 
courtesy,  and  laid  down  her  head,  saying : — ^"  Chair 
of  my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story,"  than  the 
clear  voice  from  under  the  cushion  said: 
"  Listen  to  the  story  of  Childe  Charity." 


Zhc  Stor^  of  Cbilbe  Cbaritiz 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  STORY  OF  CHILDE  CHARITY 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  there  lived  in  the  west 
:  country  a  little  girl  who  had  neither  father  nor 
[mother ;  they  both  died  when  she  was  very  young, 
sand  left  their  daughter  to  the  care  of  her  uncle,  who 
iwas  the  richest  farmer  in  all  that  coimtry.  He 
[had  houses  and  lands,  flocks  and  herds,  many 
iservants  to  work  about  his  house  and  fields,  a  wife 
mho  had  brought  him  a  great  dowry,  and  two  fair 
^daughters.  All  their  neighbours,  being  poor, 
looked  up  to  the  family — insomuch  that  they  imag- 
ined themselves  great  people.  The  father  and 
mother  were  as  proud  as  peacocks ;  the  daughters 
thought  themselves  the  greatest  beauties  in  the 
^orld,  and  not  one  of  the  family  would  speak 
Civilly  to  anybody  they  thought  low. 

"  Now  it  happened  that  though  she  was  their 

127 


128         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

near  relation,  they  had  this  opinion  of  the  orphan] 
girl,  partly  because  she  had  no  fortune,  and  partly] 
because  of  ht ".  humble,  kindly  disposition.  It 
was  said  that  the  more  needy  and  despised  any 
creature  was,  the  more  ready  was  she  to  befriend 
it :  on  which  account  the  people  of  the  west  country 
called  her  Childe  Charity,  and  if  she  had  any  other 
name,  I  never  heard  it.  Childe  Charity  was 
thought  very  mean  in  that  proud  house.  Her 
uncle  would  not  own  her  for  his  niece ;  her  cousins 
would  not  keep  her  company;  and  her  aunt  sent 
her  to  work  in  the  dairy,  and  to  sleep  in  the  back 
garret,  where  they  kept  all  sorts  of  lumber  and  dry 
herbs  for  the  winter.  All  the  servants  learned 
the  same  tune,  and  Childe  Charity  had  more  work 
than  rest  among  them.  All  the  day  she  scoured 
pails,  scrubbed  dishes,  and  washed  crockery  ware; 
but  every  night  she  slept  in  the  back  garret  as 
sound  as  a  princess  could  in  her  palace  chamber. 

"  Her  uncle's  house  was  large  and  white,  and 
stood  among  green  meadows  by  a  river's  side. 
In  front  it  had  a  porch  covered  with  a  vine ;  behind, 
it  had  a  farmyard  and  high  granaries.    Within, 


THe  Story  of  CHilde  CKarity      129 

there  were  two  parlours  for  the  rich,  and  two 
kitchens  for  the  poor,  which  the  neighbours 
thought  wonderfully  grand;  and  one  day  in  the 
harvest  season,  when  this  rich  farmer's  com  had 
been  all  cut  down  and  housed,  he  condescended  so 
far  as  to  invite  them  to  a  harvest  supper.  The  west 
country  people  came  in  their  holiday  clothes  and 
best  behaviour.  Such  heaps  of  cakes  and  cheese, 
such  baskets  of  apples  and  barrels  of  ale,  had 
never  been  at  feast  before ;  and  they  were  making 
merry  in  kitchen  and  parlour,  when  a  poor  old 
Ij  woman  came  to  the  backdoor,  begging  for  broken 
P  victuals  and  a  night's  lodging.  Her  clothes  were 
coarse  and  ragged;  her  hair  was  scanty  and  grey^ 
p  her  back  was  bent;  her  teeth  were  gone.  She  had 
J  a  squinting  eye,  a  clubbed  foot,  and  crooked 
fingers.  In  short,  she  was  the  poorest  and  ugliest 
old  woman  that  ever  came  begging.  The  first 
Vho  saw  her  was  the  kitchen-maid,  and  she  or- 
dered her  to  be  gone  for  an  ugly  witch.  The  next 
was  the  herd-boy,  and  he  threw  her  a  bone  over 
his  shoulder;  but  Childe  Charity,  hearing  the 
noise,  came  out  from  her  seat  at  the  foot  of  the 


130         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

lowest  table,  and  asked  the  old  woman  to  take  her  ? 
share  of  the  supper,  and  sleep  that  night  in  her  bed 
in  the  back  garret.    The  old  woman  sat  down 
without   a   word    of   thanks.     AU   the    company 
laughed  at  Childe  Charity  for  giving  her  bed  and 
her  supper  to  a  beggar.     Her  proud  cousins  said 
it  was  just  like  her  mean  spirit,  but  Childe  Charity  , 
did  not  mind  them.     She  scraped  the  pots  for  her  ^ 
supper  that  night  and  slept  on  a  sack  among  the 
lumber,  while  the  old  woman  rested  in  her  warm 
bed ;  and  next  morning,  before  the  little  girl  awoke, 
she  was  up  and  gone,  without  so  much  as  saying 
thank  you,  or  good-morning. 

"  That  day  all  the  servants  were  sick  after  the 
feast,  and  mostly  cross  too — so  you  may  judge 
how  civil  they  were;  when,  at  supper  time,  who 
should  come  to  the  backdoor  but  the  old  woman, 
again  asking  for  broken  victuals  and  a  nigl.fs  | 
lodging.  No  one  would  listen  to  her  or  give  her  a 
morsel,  till  Childe  Charity  rose  from  her  seat  at 
the  foot  of  the  lowest  table,  and  kindly  asked  her 
to  take  her  supper,  and  sleep  in  her  bed  in  the  back 
garret.    Again  the  old  woman  sat  down  without  a 


The  Story  of  Childe  Charity      131 

iword.  Childe  Charity  scraped  the  pots  for  her 
isupper,  and  slept  on  the  sack.  In  the  morning  the 
old  woman  was  gone;  but  for  six  nights  after,  as 
[sure  as  the  supper  was  spread,  there  was  she  at  the 
I  backdoor,  and  the  little  girl  regularly  asked  her  in. 
"  Childe  Charity's  aunt  said  she  would  let  her 
[get  enough  of  beggars.  Her  cousins  made  con- 
ttinual  game  of  what  they  called  her  genteel  visitor. 
^;  Sometimes  the  old  woman  said,  *  Child,  why  don't 
]you  make  this  bed  softer  ?  and  why  are  your 
I  blankets  so  thin  ?  '  but  she  never  gave  her  a  word 
lof  thanks  nor  a  civil  good-morning.  At  last,  on 
(the  ninth  night  from  her  first  coming,  when  Childe 
(Charity  was  getting  used  to  scraping  the  pots  and 
I  sleeping  on  the  sack,  her  accustomed  knock  came 
j  to  the  door,  and  there  she  stood  with  an  ugly  ashy- 
i  coloured  dog,  so  stupid-looking  and  climisy  that 
i  no  herd-boy  would  keep  him. 
'  '*  *  Good-evening,  my  little  girl,'  she  said  when 
I  Childe  Charity  opened  the  door.  *  I  will  not  have 
;your  supper  and  bed  to-night — I  am  going  on  a 
^  long  journey  to  see  a  friend ;  but  here  is  a  dog  of 
I  mine,  whom  nobody  in  all  the  west  country  will 


132         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

keep  for  me.  He  is  a  little  cross,  and  not  very 
handsome;  but  I  leave  him  to  your  care  till  the 
shortest  day  in  all  the  year.  Then  you  and  I  will 
count  for  his  keeping.* 

"  When  the  old  woman  had  said  the  last  word, 
she  set  off  with  such  speed  that  Childe  Charity 
lost  sight  of  her  in  a  minute.  The  ugly  dog  began 
to  fawn  upon  her,  but  he  snarled  at  everybody  else. 
The  servants  said  he  was  a  disgrace  to  the  house. 
The  proud  cousins  wanted  him  drowned,  and  it  was 
with  great  trouble  that  Childe  Charity  got  leave 
to  keep  him  in  an  old  ruined  cow-house.  Ugly 
and  cross  as  the  dog  was,  he  fawned  on  her,  and 
the  old  woman  had  left  him  to  her  care.  So  the 
little  girl  gave  him  part  of  all  her  meals,  and  when 
the  hard  frost  came,  took  him  privately  to  her  own 
back  garret,  because  the  cow-house  was  damp  and 
cold  in  the  long  nights.  The  dog  lay  quietly  on 
some  straw  in  a  corner.  Childe  Charity  slept 
soundly,  but  every  morning  the  servants  would  say 
to  her : 

"  *  What  great  Ught  and  fine  talking  was  that 
in  your  back  garret  ?  ' 


The  Story  of  Childe  Charity      133 

"  *  There  was  no  light  but  the  moon  shining 
in  through  the  shutterless  window,  and  no  talk 
that  I  heard,'  said  Childe  Charity,  and  she  thought 
they  must  have  been  dreaming;  but  night  after 
night,  when  any  of  them  awoke  in  the  dark  and 
silent  hour  that  comes  before  the  morning,  they 
saw  a  Ught  brighter  and  clearer  than  the  Christmas 
fire,  and  heard  voices  like  those  of  lords  and  ladies 
in  the  back  garret. 

"  Partly  from  fear,  and  partly  from  laziness, 
none  of  the  servants  would  rise  to  see  what  might 
be  there;  till  at  length,  when  the  winter  nights 
were  at  the  longest,  the  little  parlour-maid,  who 
did  least  work  and  got  most  favour,  because 
she  gathered  news  for  her  mistress,  crept  out  of 
bed  when  all  the  rest  were  sleeping,  and  set  her- 
self to  watch  at  a  crevice  of  the  door.  She  saw 
the  dog  lying  quietly  in  the  corner,  Childe  Charity 
sleeping  soundly  in  her  bed,  and  the  moon  shining 
through  the  shutterless  window ;  but  an  hoxxr  be- 
fore daybreak  there  came  a  glare  of  lights,  and 
a  sound  of  far-off  bugles.  The  window  opened, 
and  in  marched  a  troop  of  little  men  clothed  in 


134        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

crimson  and  gold,  and  bearing  every  man  a  torch^ 
till  the  room  looked  bright  as  day.  They  marched 
up  with  great  reverence  to  the  dog,  where  he  lay 
on  the  straw,  and  the  most  richly  clothed  among 
them  said: 

"  *  Royal  prince,  we  have  prepared  the  ban- 
quet hall.  What  will  your  highness  please  that 
we  do  next  ?  ' 

"  *  Ye  have  done  v/ell,^  said  the  dog.  *  Now 
prepare  the  feast,  and  see  that  all  things  be  in  our 
first  fashion :  for  the  princess  and  I  mean  to  bring 
a  stranger  who  never  feasted  in  our  halls  before.' 

*'  *  Your  highness's  commands  shall  be  obeyed,* 
said  the  little  man,  making  another  reverence ;  and 
he  and  his  company  passed  out  of  the  window. 
By  and  by  there  was  another  glare  of  lights,  and 
a  sound  like  far-off  flutes.  The  window  opened, 
and  there  came  in  a  company  of  little  ladies  clad 
in  rose-coloured  velvet,  and  carrying  each  a  crystal 
lamp.  They  also  walked  with  great  reverence 
up  to  the  dog,  and  the  gayest  among  them  said: 

"  *  Royal  prince,  we  have  prepared  the  tapestry. 
What  will  your  highness  please  that  we  do  next  ?  * 


THe  Story  of  CHilde  CKarity       135 

"  *  Ye  have  done  well,*  said  the  dog.  *  Now 
prepare  the  robes,  and  let  all  thmgs  be  in  our 
first  fashion:  for  the  princess  and  I  will  bring  with 
us  a  stranger  who  never  feasted  in  our  halls 
before.' 
^  "  *  Your  highnesses  commands  shall  be  obeyed,' 
said  the  little  lady,  making  a  low  courtesy;  and 
she  and  her  company  passed  out  through  the 
window,  which  closed  quietly  behind  them.  The 
dog  stretched  himself  out  upon  the  straw,  the 
little  girl  turned  in  her  sleep,  and  the  moon  shone 
in  on  the  back  garret.  The  parlour-maid  was  so 
much  amazed,  and  so  eager  to  tell  this  great  story 
to  her  mistress,  that  she  could  not  close  her  eyes 
that  night,  and  was  up  before  cock-crow;  but 
when  she  told  it,  her  mistress  called  her  a  silly 
wench  to  have  such  foolish  dreams,  and  scolded 
her  so  that  the  parlour-maid  durst  not  mention 
what  she  had  seen  to  the  servants.  Nevertheless 
Childe  Charity's  aunt  thought  there  might  be 
something  in  it  worth  knowing;  so  next  night, 
when  all  the  house  were  asleep,  she  crept  out  of 
bed,  and  set  herself  to  watch  a'  the  back  garret 


136         Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

door.  There  she  saw  exactly  what  the  maid  told 
her — the  little  men  with  the  torches,  and  the  Httle 
ladies  with  the  crystal  lamps,  come  in  making 
great  reverence  to  the  dog,  and  the  same  words 
pass,  only  he  said  to  the  one,  *  Now  prepare  the 
presents,'  and  to  the  other,  *  Prepare  the  jewels ' ; 
and  when  they  were  gone  the  dog  stretched  him- 
self on  the  straw,  Childe  Charity  turned  in  her 
sleep,  and  the  moon  shone  in  on  the  back  garret. 
"  The  mistress  could  not  close  her  eyes  any 
more  than  the  maid  from  eagerness  to  tell  the 
story.  She  woke  up  Childe  Charity's  rich  uncle 
before  cock-crow ;  but  when  he  heard  it,  he  laughed 
at  her  for  a  foolish  woman,  and  advised  her  not 
to  repeat  the  like  before  the  neighbours,  lest  they 
should  think  she  had  lost  her  senses.  The  mis- 
tress could  say  no  more,  and  the  day  passed;  but 
that  night  the  master  thought  he  would  like  to  see 
what  went  on  in  the  back  garret:  so  when  all  the 
house  were  asleep  he  slipped  out  of  bed,  and  set 
himself  to  watch  at  the  crevice  in  the  door.  The 
same  thing  happened  again  that  the  maid  and  the 
mistress  saw :  the  little  men  in  crimson  with  their 


TKe  Story  of  CKilde  CKarity      137 

torches,  and  the  little  ladies  in  rose-coloured 
velvet  with  their  lamps,  came  in  at  the  window,  and 
made  an  humble  reverence  to  the  ugly  dog,  the 
one  saying,  *  Royal  prince,  we  have  prepared  the 
presents,*  and  the  other,  *  Royal  prince,  we  have 
prepared  the  jewels  * ;  and  the  dog  said  to  them 
all,  *  Ye  have  done  well.  To-morrow  come  and 
meet  me  and  the  princess  with  horses  and  chariots, 
and  let  all  things  be  in  our  first  fashion:  for  we 
will  bring  a  stranger  from  this  house  who  has 
never  travelled  with  us,  nor  feasted  in  our  halls 
before.* 

"  The  little  men  and  the  little  ladies  said,  *  Your 
highness's  commands  shall  be  obeyed.*  When 
they  had  gone  out  through  the  window  the  ugly 
dog  stretched  himself  out  on  the  straw,  ChUde 
Charity  turned  in  her  sleep,  and  the  moon  shone 
in  on  the  back  garret. 

"  The  master  could  not  close  his  eyes  any  more 
than  the  maid  or  the  mistress,  for  thinking  of  this 
strange  sight.  He  remembered  to  have  heard  his 
grandfather  say,  that  somewhere  near  his  meadows 
there  lay  a  path  leading  to  the  fairies*  country, 


138         Granny's  Wonderfiil  CKair 

and  the  haymakers  used  to  see  it  shining  through 
the  grey  siunmer  morning  as  the  fairy  bands  went 
home.  Nobody  had  heard  or  seen  the  like  for 
many  years;  but  the  master  concluded  that  the 
doings  in  his  back  garret  must  be  a  fairy  business, 
and  the  ugly  dog  a  person  of  great  account.  His 
chief  wonder  was,  however,  what  visitor  the  fairies 
intended  to  take  from  his  house ;  and  after  thinking 
the  matter  over  he  was  sure  it  must  be  one  of  his 
daughters — they  were  so  handsome,  and  had  such 
fine  clothes. 

"  Accordingly,  Childe  Charity's  rich  uncle  made 
it  his  first  business  that  morning  to  get  ready  a 
breakfast  of  roast  mutton  for  the  ugly  dog,  and 
carry  it  to  him  in  the  old  cow-house;  but  not  a 
morsel  would  the  dog  taste.  On  the  contrary, 
he  snarled  at  the  master,  and  would  have  bitten 
him  if  he  had  not  run  away  with  his  mutton. 

"  *  The  fairies  have  strange  ways,'  said  the 
master  to  himself;  but  he  called  his  daughters 
privately,  bidding  them  dress  themselves  in  their 
best,  for  he  could  not  say  which  of  them  might 
be   called  into   great   company   before  nightfall. 


TKe  Story  of  CKilde  CHarity      139 

Childe  Charity's  proud  cousins,  hearing  this,  put 
on  the  richest  of><heir  silks  and  laces,  and  strutted 
like  peacocks  fromliitchen  to  parlour  all  day,  wait- 
ing for  the  call  their'^ther  spoke  of,  while  the 
little  girl  scoured  and  Isi^bbed  in  the  dairy. 
They  were  in  very  bad  hum^rf  when  night  fell, 
and  nobody  had  come ;  but  just  afei^e  family  were 
sitting  down  to  supper  the  ugly  dog  bfeg$n  to  bark, 
and  the  old  woman's  knock  was  heard  at  the 
backdoor.  Childe  Charity  opened  it,  and  was 
going  to  ofifer  her  bed  and  supper  as  usual,  when 
the  old  woman  said : 

"  *  This  is  the  shortest  day  in  all  the  year,  and 
I  am  going  home  to  hold  a  feast  after  my  travels. 
I  see  you  have  taken  good  care  of  my  dog,  and 
now  if  you  will  come  with  me  to  my  house,  he  and 
I  will  do  our  best  to  entertain  you.  Here  is  our 
company.' 

"  As  the  old  woman  spoke  there  was  a  sound 
of  far-off  flutes  and  bugles,  then  a  glare  of  lights ; 
and  a  great  company,  clad  so  grandly  that  they 
shone  with  gold  and  jewels,  came  in  open  chariots, 
covered  with  gilding  and  drawn  by  snow-white 


140         Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

horses.  The  first  and  finest  of  the  chariots  was 
empty.  The  old  woman  led  Childe  Charity  to  it 
by  the  hand,  and  the  ugly  dog  jumped  in  before  her. 
The  proud  cousins,  in  all  their  finery,  had  by  this 
time  come  to  the  door,  but  nobody  wanted  them ; 
and  no  sooner  was  the  old  woman  and  her  dog 
within  the  chariot  than  a  marvellous  change  passed 
over  them,  for  the  ugly  old  woman  turned  at  once 
to  a  beautiful  young  princess,  with  long  yellow 
curls  and  a  robe  of  green  and  gold,  while  the  ugly 
dog  at  her  side  started  up  a  fair  young  prince,  with 
nut-brown  hair  and  a  robe  of  purple  and  silver. 

"  *  We  are,'  said  they,  as  the  chariots  drove  on, 
and  the  little  girl  sat  astonished,  *  a  prince  and 
princess  of  Fairyland,  and  there  was  a  wager 
between  us  whether  or  not  there  were  good  people 
still  to  be  found  in  these  false  and  greedy  times. 
One  said  Yes,  and  the  other  said  No;  and  I  have 
lost,*  said  the  prince,  *  and  must  pay  the  feast 
and  presents.' 

"  Childe  Charity  never  heard  any  more  of  that 
story.  Some  of  the  farmer's  household,  who  were 
looking  after  them  through  the  moonlight  night, 


] 


The  Story  of  CKilde  CKarity      141 

said  the  chariots  had  gone  one  way  across  the 
meadows,  some  said  they  had  gone  another,  and 
till  this  day  they  cannot  agree  upon  the  direction. 
But  Childe  Charity  went  with  that  noble  company 
into  a  country  such  as  she  had  never  seen — for 
primroses  covered  all  the  ground,  and  the  light 
was  always  like  that  of  a  summer  evening. 
They  took  her  to  a  royal  palace,  where  there  was 
nothing  but  feasting  and  dancing  for  seven  days. 
She  had  robes  of  pale  green  velvet  to  wear,  and 
slept  in  a  chamber  inlaid  with  ivory.  When  the 
feast  was  done,  the  prince  and  princess  gave  her 
such  heaps  of  gold  and  jewels  that  she  could  not 
carry  them,  but  they  gave  her  a  chariot  to  go  home 
in,  drawn  by  six  white  horses ;  and  on  the  seventh 
night,  which  happened  to  be  Christmas  time,  when 
the  farmer's  family  had  settled  in  their  own  minds 
that  she  would  never  come  back,  and  were  sitting 
down  to  supper,  they  heard  the  sound  of  her  coach- 
man's bugle,  and  saw  her  alight  with  all  the  jewels 
and  gold  at  the  very  backdoor  where  she  had 
brought  in  the  ugly  old  woman.  The  fairy  chariot 
drove  away,  and  never  came  back  to  that  farm- 


142         Granny's  'Wonderful  CKair 

house  after.  But  Childe  Charity  scrubbed  and 
scoured  no  more,  for  she  grew  a  great  lady,  even 
in  the  eyes  of  her  proud  cousins." 

Here  the  voice  out  of  the  cushion  ceased,  and 
one,  with  a  fair  face  and  a  robe  of  pale  green  velvet, 
rose  from  among  the  company,  and  said : 

"  That's  my  story." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Princess  Greedalind,  "  if 
we  had  some  of  those  fine  chariots !  " 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,"  answered  Queen  Want- 
all,  "  and  the  gold  and  jewels  too!  "  But  King 
Winwealth  said: 

"  Excepting  yesterday's  story,  and  the  three 
that  went  before  it,  I  have  not  heard  such  a  tale 
since  my  brother  Wisewit  went  from  me,  and  was 
lost  in  the  forest.  Highjinks,  the  third  of  my 
pages,  go  and  bring  this  maiden  a  crimson  velvet 
hat.  " 

Snowflower  took  the  hat  and  thanked  the  king, 
made  her  courtesy,  and  went  down  on  her  grand-, 
mother's  chair  to  the  housekeeper's  parlour. 
Her  blanket  was  covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt 


THe  Story  of  CKilde  CKarity      143 

that  night;  next  day  she  had  roast  turkey  and  meat 
for  dinner.  But  the  feast  went  on  in  the  palace 
hall  with  the  usual  spites  and  envies ;  the  clamour 
and  complaints  at  the  gate  were  still  heard  above 
all  the  music;  and  King  Winwealth  fell  into  his 
wonted  low  spirits  as  soon  as  the  supper  was  over. 
As  usual,  a  message  came  down  from  the  banquet 
hall,  and  the  chief-butler  told  Snowflower  that 
she  and  her  chair  were  wanted  to  tell  King  Win- 
wealth  a  story.  So  she  went  up  with  all  the  pre- 
sents on,  even  to  the  crimson  hat,  made  her 
courtesy  to  the  good  company,  and  had  scarcely 
said,  "  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story," 
when  the  voice  from  under  the  cushion  said: 
"  Listen  to  the  story  of  Sour  and  Civil." 


Sour  anb  Civil 


Q  E.  P.  D.  &  Co 


CHAPTER  Vn 

SOUR  AKD   CIVIL 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  stood  upon  the  sea- 
coast  of  the  west  country  a  certain  hamlet  of  low 
cottages,  where  no  one  lived  but  fishennen.  All 
round  it  was  a  broad  beach  of  snow-white  sand, 
where  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  gulls  and  cor- 
morants, and  long  tangled  seaweeds  cast  up  by 
the  tide  that  came  and  went  night  and  day,  sum- 
mer and  winter.  There  was  no  harbour  nor  port 
on  all  that  shore.  Ships  passed  by  at  a  distance, 
with  their  white  sails  set,  and  on  the  land-side 
there  lay  wide  grassy  downs,  where  peasants  lived 
and  shepherds  fed  their  flocks.  The  fishermen 
thought  themselves  as  well  off  as  any  people  in 
that  country.  Their  families  never  wanted  for 
plenty  of  herrings  and  mackerel;  and  what  they 
had  to  spare  the  landsmen  bought  from  them  at 

147 


148         Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

certain  village  markets  on  the  downs,  giving  them 
in  exchange  butter,  cheese,  and  com. 

"  The  two  best  fishermen  in  that  village  were 
the  sons  of  two  old  widows,  who  had  no  other 
children,  and  happened  to  be  near  neighbours. 
Their  family  names  were  short,  for  they  called  the 
one  Sour,  and  the  other  Civil.  There  was  no 
relationship  between  them  that  ever  I  heard  of; 
but  they  had  only  one  boat,  and  always  fished 
together,  though  their  names  expressed  the  differ- 
ence of  their  humours — for  Civil  never  used  a  hard 
word  where  a  soft  one  would  do,  and  when  Sour 
was  not  snarling  at  somebody,  he  was  sure  to  be 
grumbling  at  everything. 

"  Nevertheless  they  agreed  wonderfully,  and 
were  lucky  fishers.  Both  were  strong,  active,  and 
of  good  courage.  On  winter's  night  or  summer's 
morning  they  would  steer  out  to  sea  far  beyond 
the  boats  of  their  neighbours,  and  never  came 
home  without  some  fish  to  cook  and  some  to  spare. 
Their  mothers  were  proud  of  them,  each  in  her  own 
fashion — for  the  saying  held  good,  *  Like  mother, 
like  son.'    Dame  Civil  thought  the  whole  world 


Sour  and  Civil  149 

didn't  hold  a  better  than  her  son;  and  her  boy 
was  the  only  creature  at  whom  Dame  Sour  didn't 
scold  and  frown.  The  hamlet  was  divided  in 
opinion  concerning  the  young  fishermen.  Some 
thought  Civil  the  best;  some  said,  without  Sour 
he  would  catch  nothing.  So  things  went  on,  till 
one  day  about  the  fall  of  winter,  when  mists  were 
gathering  darkly  on  sea  and  sky,  and  the  air  was 
chill  and  frosty,  all  the  boatmen  of  the  hamlet  went 
out  to  fish,  and  so  did  Sour  and  Civil. 

"  That  day  they  had  not  their  usual  luck.  Cast 
their  net  where  they  would,  not  a  single  fish  came 
in.  Their  neighbours  caught  boatfuls,  and  went 
home,  Sour  said,  laughing  at  them.  But  when  the 
sea  was  growing  crimson  with  the  sxmset  their  nets 
were  empty,  and  they  were  tired.  Civil  himself 
did  not  like  to  go  home  without  fish — it  would 
damage  the  high  repute  they  had  gained  in  the 
village.  Besides,  the  sea  was  calm  and  the  even- 
ing fair,  and,  as  a  last  attempt,  they  steered  still 
farther  out,  and  cast  their  nets  beside  a  rock 
which  rose  rough  and  grey  above  the  water,  and 
was  called  the  Merman's  Seat — from  an  old  report 


150         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

that  the  fishermen's  fathers  had  seen  the  mermen^ 
or  sea-people,  sittmg  there  on  moonlight  nights. 
Nobody  believed  that  rumour  now,  but  the  vil- 
lagers did  not  like  to  fish  there.  The  water  was 
said  to  be  deep  beyond  measure,  and  sudden 
squalls  were  apt  to  trouble  it;  but  Sour  and  Civil 
were  right  glad  to  see  by  the  moving  of  their  lines 
that  there  was  something  in  their  net,  and  gladder 
still  when  they  found  it  so  heavy  that  all  their 
strength  was  required  to  draw  it  up.  Scarcely 
had  they  landed  it  on  the  Merman's  Seat,  when 
their  joy  was  changed  to  disappointment,  for  be- 
sides a  few  starved  mackerel,  the  net  contained 
nothing  but  a  monstrous  ugly  fish  as  long  as 
Civil  (who  was  taller  than  Sour),  with  a  huge 
snout,  a  long  beard,  and  a  skin  covered  with 
prickles. 

"  *  Such  a  horrid  ugly  creatxire  !  *  said  Sour, 
as  they  shook  it  out  of  the  net  on  the  rough  rock, 
and  gathered  up  the  mackerel.  *  We  needn't  fish 
here  any  more.  How  they  will  mock  us  in  the 
village  for  staying  out  so  late,  and  bringing  home 
so  Uttle ! ' 


Sour  and  Civil  151 

"  *  Let  us  try  again,'  said  Civil,  as  he  set  his 
creel  of  mackerel  in  the  boat. 

"  *  Not  another  cast  will  I  make  to-night '  ;  and 
what  more  Sour  would  have  said,  was  cut  short 
by  the  great  fish,  for,  looking  round  at  them,  it 
spoke  out: 

"  *  I  suppose  you  don't  think  me  worth  taking 
home  in  yom:  dirty  boat ;  but  I  can  tell  you  that  if 
you  were  down  in  my  country,  neither  of  you  would 
be  thought  fit  to  keep  me  company.' 

"  Sour  and  Civil  were  terribly  astonished  to 
hear  the  fish  speak.  The  first  could  not  think  of 
a  cross  word  to  say,  but  Civil  made  answer  in  his 
accustomed  manner. 

"  *  Indeed,  my  lord,  we  beg  your  pardon,  but 
our  boat  is  too  light  to  carry  such  a  fish  as  you.' 

**  *  You  do  well  to  call  me  lord,'  said  the  fish, 
*  for  so  I  am,  though  it  was  hard  to  expect  you 
could  have  known  my  quality  in  this  dress.  How- 
ever, help  me  off  the  rock,  for  I  must  go  home ;  and 
for  your  civility  I  will  give  you  my  daughter  in 
marriage,  if  you  will  come  and  see  me  this  day 
twelvemonth.' 


152        Granny's  "Wonderful  CHair 

*'  Civil  helped  the  great  fish  off  the  rock  as 
respectfully  as  his  fear  would  allow  him.  Sour 
was  so  terrified  at  the  whole  transaction,  that  he 
said  not  a  word  till  they  got  safe  home ;  but  from 
that  day  forward,  when  he  wanted  to  put  Civil 
down,  it  was  his  custom  to  tell  him  and  his  mother 
that  he  would  get  no  wife  but  the  ugly  fish's 
daughter. 

"  Old  Dame  Sour  heard  this  story  from  her  son, 
and  told  it  over  the  whole  village.  Some  people 
wondered,  but  the  most  part  laughed  at  it  as  a 
good  joke;  and  Civil  and  his  mother  were  never 
known  to  be  angry  but  on  that  occasion.  Dame 
Civil  advised  her  son  never  to  fish  with  Sour  again ; 
and  as  the  boat  happened  to  be  his.  Civil  got  an  old 
skiff  which  one  of  the  fishermen  was  going  to 
break  up  for  firewood,  and  cobbled  it  up  for  him- 
self. 

"  In  that  skiff  he  went  to  sea  alone  all  the  winter, 
and  all  the  summer;  but  though  Civil  was  brave 
and  skilful,  he  could  catch  little,  because  his  boat 
was  bad — and  everybody  but  his  mother  began  to 
think  him  of  no  value.     Sour  having  the  good  boat 


Sour  and  Civil  153 

got  a  new  comrade,  and  had  the  praise  of  being 
the  best  fisherman. 

"  Poor  Civil's  heart  was  getting  low  as  the  sum- 
mer wore  away.  The  fish  had  grown  scarce  on  that 
coast,  and  the  fishermen  had  to  steer  farther  out 
to  sea.  One  evening  when  he  had  toiled  all  day 
and  caught  nothing,  Civil  thought  he  would  go 
farther  too,  and  try  his  fortune  beside  the  Mer- 
man's rock.  The  sea  was  cahn,  and  the  evening 
fair;  Civil  did  not  remember  that  it  was  the  very 
day  on  which  his  troubles  began  by  the  great  fish 
talking  to  him  twelve  months  before.  As  he 
neared  the  rock  the  sun  was  setting,  and  much 
astonished  was  the  fisherman  to  see  upon  it  three 
fair  ladies,  with  sea-green  gowns  and  strings  of 
great  pearls  wound  round  their  long  fair  hair ;  two 
of  them  were  waving  their  hands  to  him.  They 
were  the  tallest  and  stateliest  ladies  he  had  ever 
seen;  but  Civil  could  perceive  as  he  came  nearer 
that  there  was  no  colour  in  their  cheeks,  that  their 
hair  had  a  strange  bluish  shade,  like  that  of  deep 
sea-water,  and  there  was  a  fiery  light  in  their  eyes 
that  frightened  him.     The  third,  who  was  less  of 


154        Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

stature,  did  not  notice  him  at  all,  but  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  setting  sun.  Though  her  look  was 
mournful.  Civil  could  see  that  there  was  a  faint 
rosy  bloom  on  her  cheek — that  her  hair  was  a 
golden  yellow,  and  her  eyes  were  mild  and  clear 
like  those  of  his  mother. 

"  *  Welcome!  welcome!  noble  fisherman! '  cried 
the  two  ladies.  *  Our  father  has  sent  us  for  you 
to  visit  him,'  and  with  one  bound  they  leaped  into 
his  boat,  bringing  with  them  the  smaller  lady,  who 
said: 

"  *  Oh!  bright  sun  and  brave  sky  that  I  see  so 
seldom !  *  But  Civil  heard  no  more,  for  his  boat 
went  down  miles  deep  in  the  sea,  and  he  thought 
himself  drowning ;  but  one  lady  had  caught  him  by 
the  right  arm,  and  the  other  by  the  left,  and  pulled 
him  into  the  mouth  of  a  rocky  cave,  where  there 
was  no  water.  On  they  went,  still  down  and  down, 
as  if  on  a  steep  hill-side.  The  cave  was  very  long, 
but  it  grew  wider  as  they  came  to  the  bottom. 
Then  Civil  saw  a  faint  light,  and  walked  out  with 
his  fair  company  into  the  country  of  the  sea-people. 
In  that  land  there  grew  neither  grass  nor  flowers, 


(C)  E.  P.  D.  &  Co. 


WITH  ONE  BOUND  THEY  LEAPED  INTO  HIS  BOAT.      . 

MILES  DEEP  IN  THE  SEA. 


.     HIS  BOAT  WENT  DOWN 


Sour  and  Civil  155 

bushes  nor  trees,  but  the  ground  was  covered  with 
bright-coloured  shells  and  pebbles.  There  were 
hills  of  marble,  and  rocks  of  spar;  and  over  all  a 
cold  blue  sky  with  no  sun,  but  a  light  clear  and 
silvery  as  that  of  the  harvest  moon.  The  fisher- 
man could  see  no  smoking  chimneys,  but  there 
were  grottoes  in  the  sparry  rocks,  and  halls  in  the 
marble  hills,  where  lived  the  sea-people — with 
whom,  as  old  stories  say,  fishermen  and  mariners 
used  to  meet  on  lonely  capes  and  headlands  in  the 
simple  times  of  the  world. 

"  Forth  they  came  in  all  directions  to  see  the 
stranger.  Mermen  with  long  white  beards,  and 
mermaids  such  as  walk  with  the  fishermen,  all 
clad  in  sea-green,  and  decorated  with  strings  of 
pearls;  but  every  one  with  the  same  colourless 
face,  and  the  same  wild  light  in  their  eyes.  The 
mermaids  led  Civil  up  one  of  the  marble  hills  to  a 
great  cavern  with  halls  and  chambers  like  a  palace. 
Their  floors  were  of  alabaster,  their  walls  of  por- 
phyry, and  their  ceilings  inlaid  with  coral.  Thou- 
sands of  crystal  lamps  lit  the  palace.  There  were 
seats  and  tables  hewn  out  of  shining  spar,  and  a 


156        Granny's  Wonderful   CKair 

great  company  sat  feasting ;  but  what  most  amazed 
Civil  was  the  quantity  of  cups,  flagons,  and  goblets, 
made  of  gold  and  silver,  of  such  different  shapes 
and  patterns  that  they  seemed  to  have  been 
gathered  from  all  the  countries  in  the  world.  In 
the  chief  hall  there  sat  a  merman  on  a  stately 
chair,  with  more  jewels  than  all  the  rest  about  him. 
Before  him  the  mermaids  brought  Civil,  saying: 

"  *  Father,  here  is  our  guest.' 

"  *  Welcome,  noble  fisherman ! '  cried  the  mer- 
man, in  a  voice  which  Civil  remembered  with 
terror,  for  it  was  that  of  the  great  ugly  fish;  *  wel- 
come to  our  halls!  Sit  down  and  feast  with  us, 
and  then  choose  which  of  my  daughters  you  will 
have  for  a  bride.* 

"  Civil  had  never  felt  himself  so  thoroughly 
frightened  in  all  his  life.  How  was  he  to  get 
home  to  his  mother  ?  and  what  would  the  old  dame 
think  when  the  dark  night  came  without  bringing 
him  home  ?  There  was  no  use  in  talking — Civil 
had  wisdom  enough  to  see  that :  he  therefore  tried 
to  take  things  quietly;  and,  having  thanked  the 
merman  for  his  invitation,  took  the  seat  assigned 


I 


Sour  and  Civil  157 

him  on  his  right  hand.  Civil  was  hungry  with  the 
long  day  at  sea,  but  there  was  no  want  of  fare  on 
that  table :  meats  and  wines,  such  as  he  had  never 
tasted,  were  set  before  him  in  the  richest  of  golden 
dishes;  but,  hungry  as  he  was,  the  fisherman  per- 
ceived that  everything  there  had  the  taste  and 
smell  of  the  sea. 

"  If  the  fisherman  had  been  the  lord  of  lands 
and  castles  he  would  not  have  been  treated  with 
more  respect.  The  two  mermaids  sat  by  him — 
one  filled  his  plate,  another  filled  his  goblet;  but 
the  third  only  looked  at  him  in  a  stealthy,  warning 
way  when  nobody  perceived  her.  Civil  soon 
finished  his  share  of  the  feast,  and  then  the  mer- 
man showed  him  all  the  splendours  of  his  cavern. 
The  halls  were  full  of  company,  some  feasting, 
some  dancing,  and  some  playing  all  manner  of 
games,  and  in  every  hall  was  the  same  abundance 
of  gold  and  silver  vessels;  but  Civil  was  most 
astonished  when  the  merman  brought  him  to  a 
marble  chamber  full  of  heaps  of  precious  stones. 
There  were  diamonds  there  whose  value  the 
fisherman  knew  not — ^pearls  larger  than  ever  a 


158        Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

diver  had  gathered — emeralds,  sapphires,  and 
rubbies,  that  would  have  made  the  jewellers  of- 
the  world  wonder ;  the  merman  then  said : 
"  *  This  is  my  eldest  daughter's  dowry.* 
"'Good  luck  attend  her!'  said  Civil.  *  It 
is  the  dowry  of  a  queen.'  But  the  merman  led  him 
on  to  another  chamber;  it  was  filled  with  heaps 
of  gold  coin,  which  seemed  gathered  from  all 
times  and  nations.  The  images  and  inscriptions 
of  all  the  kings  that  ever  reigned  were  there ;  and 
the  merman  said: 

"  *  This  is  my  second  daughter's  dowry.' 
"*Good    luck   attend    her!'    said    Civil.     *  It 
is  a  dowry  for  a  princess.' 

"  *  So  you  may  say,'  replied  the  merman.  *  But 
make  up  your  mind  which  of  the  maidens  you 
will  marry,  for  the  third  has  no  portion  at  all, 
because  she  is  not  my  daughter;  but  only,  as  you 
may  see,  a  poor  silly  girl  taken  into  my  family 
for  charity.' 

"  *  Truly,  my  lord,'  said  Civil,  whose  mind  was 
already  made  up,  *  both  your  daughters  are  too  rich 
and  far  too  noble  for  me;  therefore  I  choose  the 


THE   MERMAN   AGAIN   SHOWED   CIVIL    THE   CHAMBER  OF   GOLD   AND 
THE   CHAMBER   OF   JEWELS 


E.  P.  D.  &  CO. 


159 


l6o        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

third.  Her  poverty  will  best  become  my  estate 
of  a  poor  fisherman.' 

"  *  If  you  choose  her/  said  the  merman,  *  you 
must  wait  long  for  a  wedding.  I  cannot  allow  an  in- 
ferior girl  to  be  married  before  my  own  daughters.' 
And  he  said  a  great  deal  more  to  persuade  him; 
but  Civil  would  not  change  his  mind,  and  they 
returned  to  the  hall. 

"  There  was  no  more  attention  for  the  fisherman, 
but  everybody  watched  him  well.  Turn  where  he 
would,  master  or  guest  had  their  eyes  upon  him, 
though  he  made  them  the  best  speeches  he  could 
remember,  and  praised  all  their  splendours.  One 
thing,  however,  was  strange — there  was  no  end  to 
the  fun  and  the  feasting;  nobody  seemed  tired, 
and  nobody  thought  of  sleep.  When  Civil's  very 
eyes  closed  with  weariness,  and  he  slept  on  one  of 
the  marble  benches — no  matter  how  many  hours — 
there  were  the  company  feasting  and  dancing 
away ;  there  were  the  thousand  lamps  within,  and 
the  cold  moonlight  withouto  Civil  wished  himself 
back  with  his  mother,  his  net,  and  his  cobbled 
skiff.    Fishing  would  have  been  easier  than  those 


Sour  and  Civil  l6l 

everlasting  feasts;  but  there  was  nothing  else 
among  the  sea-people — ^no  night  of  rest,  no  working 
day. 

"  Civil  knew  not  how  time  went  on,  till,  waking 
up  from  a  long  sleep,  he  saw,  for  the  first  time, 
that  the  feast  was  over,  and  the  company  gone. 
The  lamps  still  burned,  and  the  tables,  with  all 
their  riches,  stood  in  the  empty  halls;  but  there 
was  no  face  to  be  seen,  so  sound  to  be  heard,  only 
a  low  voice  singiug  beside  the  outer  door;  and 
there,  sitting  all  alone,  he  foimd  the  mild-eyed 
maiden. 

"  *  Fair  lady,'  said  Civil,  *  tell  me  what  means 
this  quietness,  and  where  are  all  the  merry 
company  ? ' 

"  *  You  are  a  man  of  the  land,'  said  the  lady, 
*  and  know  not  the  sea-people.  They  never  sleep 
but  once  a  year,  and  that  is  at  Christmas  time. ' 
Then  they  go  into  the  deep  caverns,  where  there 
is  always  darkness,  and  sleep  till  the  new  year 
comes.' 

"  *  It  is  a  strange  fashion,'  said  Civil ;  *  but  all 
folks  have  their  way.    Fair  lady,  as  you  and  I  are 


i62        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

to  be  good  friends,  tell  me,  whence  come  all  the 
wines  and  meats,  and  gold  and  silver  vessels, 
seeing  there  are  neither  cornfields  nor  flocks  here, 
worlnnen  nor  artificers  ?  * 

"  *  The  sea-people  are  heirs  of  the  sea,'  replied 
the  maiden ;  *  to  them  come  all  the  stores  and 
riches  that  are  lost  in  it.  I  know  not  the  ways  by 
which  they  come ;  but  the  lord  of  these  halls  keeps 
the  keys  of  seven  gates,  where  they  go  out  and  in ; 
but  one  of  the  gates,  which  has  not  been  open  for 
thrice  seven  years,  leads  to  a  path  under  the  sea, 
by  which,  I  heard  the  merman  say  in  his  cups,  one 
might  reach  the  land.  Good  fisherman,  if  by  chance 
you  gain  his  favour,  and  ever  open  that  gate, 
let  me  heai  you  company;  for  I  was  bom  where 
the  sun  shines  and  the  grass  grows,  though  my 
country  and  my  parents  are  unknown  to  me.  All 
I  remember  is  sailing  in  a  great  ship,  when  a  storm 
arose,  and  it  was  wrecked,  and  not  one  soul  es- 
caped drowning  but  me.  I  was  then  a  little  child, 
and  a  brave  sailor  had  bound  me  to  a  floating 
plank  before  he  was  washed  away.  Here  the 
sea-people  came  round  me  like  great  fishes,  and 


Sour  and  Civil  163 

1  went  down  with  them  to  this  rich  and  weary 
country.  Sometimes,  as  a  great  favour,  they  take 
me  up  with  them  to  see  the  sun ;  but  that  is  seldom, 
for  they  never  Hke  to  part  with  one  who  has  seen 
their  country;  and,  fisherman,  if  you  ever  leave 
them,  remember  to  take  nothing  with  you  that 
belongs  to  them,  for  if  it  were  but  a  shell  or  a 
pebble,  that  will  give  them  power  over  you  and 
yours.' 

"  *  Thanks  for  your  news,  fair  lady,*  said  Civil. 

*  A  lord's  daughter,  doubtless,  you  must  have  been, 
while  I  am  but  a  poor  fisherman ;  yet,  as  we  have 
fallen  into  the  same  misfortune,  let  us  be  friends, 
and  it  may  be  we  shall  find  means  to  get  back  to 
the  sxmshine  together.' 

"  *  You  are  a  man  of  good  manners,'  said  the 
lady,  *  therefore,  I  accept  your  friendship ;  but  my 
fear  is  that  we  shall  never  see  the  sunshine  again.' 

"  *  Fair  speeches  brought  me  here,'  said  Civil, 

*  and  fair  speeches  may  help  me  back;  but  be 
sure  I  will  not  go  without  you.' 

"  This  promise  cheered  the  lady's  heart,  and 
she  and  Civil  spent  that  Christmas  time  seeing 


164         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

the  wonders  of  the  sea  country.  They  wandered 
through  caves  like  that  of  the  great  merman. 
The  unfinished  feast  was  spread  in  every  hall; 
the  tables  were  covered  with  most  costly  vessels ; 
and  heaps  of  jewels  lay  on  the  floors  of  unlocked 
chambers.  But  for  the  lady's  warning,  Civil 
would  fain  have  put  away  some  of  them  for  his 
mother. 

"  The  poor  woman  was  sad  of  heart  by  this 
time,  believing  her  son  to  be  drowned.  On  the 
first  night  when  he  did  not  come  home,  she  had 
gone  down  to  the  sea  and  watched  till  morning. 
Then  the  fishermen  steered  out  again,  and  Sour 
having  found  his  skiff  floating  about,  brought  it 
home,  saying,  the  foolish  young  man  was  doubt- 
less lost ;  but  what  better  could  be  expected  when 
he  had  no  discreet  person  to  take  care  of  him  ? 

"  This  grieved  Dame  Civil  sore.  She  never 
expected  to  see  her  son  again;  but,  feeling  lonely 
in  her  cottage  at  the  evening  hour  when  he  used  to 
come  home,  the  good  woman  accustomed  herself 
to  go  down  at  simset  and  sit  beside  the  sea.  That 
winter  happened  to  be  mild  on  the  coast  of  the 


Sour  and  Civil  165 

west  country,  and  one  evening  when  the  Christmas 
time  was  near,  and  the  rest  of  the  village  preparing 
to  make  merry.  Dame  Civil  sat,  as  usual,  on  the 
sands.  The  tide  was  ebbing  and  the  sun  going 
down,  when  from  the  eastward  came  a  lady  clad 
in  black,  mounted  on  a  black  palfrey,  and  followed 
by  a  squire  in  the  same  sad  clothing;  as  the  lady 
came  near,  she  said : 

"  *  Woe  is  me  for  my  daughter,  and  for  all  that 
have  lost  by  the  sea !  * 

"  *  You  say  well,  noble  lady,'  said  Dame  Civil. 
*  Woe  is  me  also  for  my  son,  for  I  have  none  beside 
him.' 

"  When  the  lady  heard  that,  she  alighted  from 
her  palfrey,  and  sat  down  by  the  fisherman's 
mother,  saying: 

"  *  Listen  to  my  story.  I  was  the  widow  of  a 
great  lord  in  the  heart  of  the  east  country.  He 
left  me  a  fair  castle,  and  an  only  daughter,  who 
was  the  joy  of  my  heart.  Her  name  was  Faith 
Feignless ;  but,  while  she  was  yet  a  child,  a  great 
fortime-teller  told  me  that  my  daughter  would 
many  a  fisherman.    I  thought  this  would  be  a 


l66         Granny's  "Wonderful  CKair 

great  disgrace  to  my  noble  family,  and,  therefore, 
sent  my  daughter  with  her  nurse  in  a  good  ship, 
bound  for  a  certain  city  where  my  relations  live, 
intending  to  follow  myself  as  soon  as  I  could  get 
my  lands  and  castles  sold.  But  the  ship  was 
wrecked,  and  my  daughter  drowned;  and  1  have 
wandered  over  the  world  with  my  good  Squire 
Trusty,  mourning  on  every  shore  with  those  who 
have  lost  friends  by  the  sea.  Some  with  whom 
I  have  mourned  grew  to  forget  their  sorrow,  and 
would  lament  with  me  no  more ;  others  being  sour 
and  selfish,  mocked  me,  saying,  my  grief  was 
nothing  to  them;  but  you  have  good  manners,  and 
I  will  remain  with  you,  however  humble  be  your 
dwelling.  My  squire  carries  gold  enough  to  pay 
all  our  charges.'  So  the  mourning  lady  and  her 
good  Squire  Trusty  went  home  with  Dame  Civil, 
and  she  was  no  longer  lonely  in  her  sorrow,  for 
when  the  dame  said : 

"  *  Oh!  if  my  son  were  alive,  I  should  never 
let  him  go  to  sea  in  a  cobbled  skiff !  *  the  lady 
answered : 

"  *  Oh!  if  my  daughter  were  but  living,  I  should 


f  So\ir  and  Civil  167 

never  think  it  a  disgrace  though  she  married  a 
fisherman !  * 

"  The  Christmas  passed  as  it  always  does  in 
the  west  country — shepherds  made  merry  on  the 
downs,  and  fishermen  on  the  shore ;  but  when  the 
merrymakings  and  ringing  of  bells  were  over  in  all 
the  land,  the  sea-people  woke  up  to  their  continual 
feasts  and  dances.  Like  one  that  had  forgotten 
all  that  was  past,  the  merman  again  showed  Civil 
the  chamber  of  gold  and  the  chamber  of  jewels, 
advising  him  to  choose  between  his  two  daughters; 
but  the  fisherman  still  answered  that  the  ladies 
were  too  noble,  and  far  too  rich  for  him.  Yet  as 
he  looked  at  the  glittering  heap,  Civil  could  not 
help  recollecting  the  poverty  of  the  west  country, 
and  the  thought  slipped  out : 

"  *  How  happy  my  old  neighbours  would  be  to 
find  themselves  here ! ' 

"  *  Say  you  so?  *  said  the  merman,  who  always 
wanted  visitors. 

"  *  Yes,'  said  Civil,  *  I  have  neighbours  up  yonder 
in  the  west  country  whom  it  would  be  hard  to  send 
home  again  if  they  got  sight  of  half  this  wealth ' ; 


i68         Granny*s  Wonderful  CHair 

and  the  honest  fisherman  thought  of  Dame  Sour 
and  her  son. 

"  The  merman  was  greatly  delighted  with  these 
speeches — he  thought  there  was  a  probabiHty  of 
getting  many  land-people  down,  and  by  and  by 
said  to  Civil : 

"  *  Suppose  you  took  up  a  few  jewels,  and  went 
up  to  tell  your  poor  neighbours  how  welcome  we 
might  make  them  ?  ' 

"  The  prospect  of  getting  back  to  his  country 
rejoiced  Civil' s  heart,  but  he  had  promised  not 
to  go  without  the  lady,  and  therefore,  answered 
prudently  what  was  indeed  true : 

"  *  Many  thanks,  my  lord,  for  choosing  such  a 
humble  man  as  I  am  to  bear  your  message;  but 
the  people  of  the  west  country  never  believe  any- 
thing without  two  witnesses  at  the  least;  yet  if 
the  poor  maid  whom  I  have  chosen  could  be  per- 
mitted to  accompany  me,  I  think  they  would  believe 
us  both.* 

"  The  merman  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  his 
people,  who  had  heard  Civil's  speech,  talked  it 
over  among  themselves  till  they  grew  sure  that 


Sour  and  Civil  169 

the  whole  west  country  would  come  down,  if 
tiiey  only  had  news  of  the  riches,  and  petitioned 
their  lord  to  send  up  Civil  and  the  poor  maid  by 
way  of  letting  them  know. 

"  As  it  seemed  for  the  public  good,  the  great 
merman  consented;  but,  being  determined  to 
have  them  back,  he  gathered  out  of  his  treasure 
chamber  some  of  the  largest  pearls  and  diamonds 
that  lay  convenient,  and  said : 

"  *  Take  these  as  a  present  from  me,  to  let  the 
west  country  people  see  what  I  can  do  for  my 
visitors.' 

"  Civil  and  the  lady  took  the  presents,  saying : 

"  *  Oh,  my  lord,  you  are  too  generous.  We 
want  nothing  but  the  pleasure  of  telling  of  your 
marvellous  riches  up  yonder.* 

"  *  Tell  everybody  to  come  down,  and  they  will 
get  the  Uke,*  said  the  merman;  *  and  follow  my 
eldest  daughter,  for  she  carries  the  key  of  the 
land  gate.* 

"  Civil  and  the  lady  followed  the  mermaid 
through  a  winding  gallery,  which  led  from  the  chief 
banquet  hall  far  into  the  marble  hill.    All  was 


170         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

dark,  and  they  had  neither  lamp  nor  torch,  but  at 
the  end  of  the  gallery  they  came  to  a  great  stone 
gate,  which  creaked  like  thunder  on  its  hinges. 
Beyond  that  there  was  a  narrow  cave,  sloping  up 
and  up  like  a  steep  hill-side.  Civil  and  the  lady 
thought  they  would  never  reach  the  top;  but  at 
last  they  saw  a  gleam  of  daylight,  then  a  strip  of 
blue  sky,  and  the  mermaid  bade  them  stoop  and 
creep  through  v/hat  seemed  a  crevice  in  the  ground, 
and  both  stood  up  on  the  broad  sea-beach  as  the 
day  was  breaking  and  the  tide  ebbing  fast  away. 

"  *  Good  time:",  to  you  among  your  west  country 
people,'  said  the  i  lermaid.  *  Tell  any  of  them  that 
would  like  to  "ome  down  to  visit  us,  that  they 
must  come  here  n  idway  between  the  high  and 
low  water-mark,  when  the  tide  is  going  out  at 
i..:  ming  or  evening.  Call  thrice  on  the  sea-people 
and  we  will  show  them  the  way.' 

"  Before  they  could  make  answer,  she  had  sunk 
down  from  their  sight,  and  there  was  no  track 
or  passage  there,  but  all  was  covered  by  the  loose 
sand  and  sea-shells. 

"  *  Now,'  said  the  lady  to  Civil,  *  we  have  seen 


Sour  and  Civil  171 

the  heavens  once  more,  and  we  will  not  go  back. 
Cast  in  the  merman's  present  quickly  before  the  sun 
rises' ;  and  taking  the  bag  of  pearls  and  diamonds, 
she  flung  it  as  far  as  she  could  into  the  sea. 

"  Civil  never  was  so  unwilUng  to  part  with 
anything  as  that  bag,  but  he  thought  it  better  to 
follow  a  good  example,  and  tossed  his  into  the  sea 
also.  They  thought  they  heard  a  long  moan 
come  up  from  the  waters ;  -  but  Civil  saw  his 
mother's  chimney  beginning  to  smoke,  and  with 
the  fair  lady  in  her  sea-green  gown  he  hastened  to 
the  good  dame's  cottage. 

"  The  whole  village  were  wok  up  that  morning 
with  cries  of  '  Welcome  back,  my  son  I ' '  Welcome 
back,  my  daughter!'  for  the  7doumful  lady  knew 
it  was  her  lost  daughter.  Faith  Feignless,  whom  the 
fisherman  had  brought  back,  and  all  the  neighbo 
assembled  to  hear  their  story.  When  it  was  told, 
everybody  praised  Civil  for  the  prudence  he  had 
shown  in  his  difficulties,  except  Sour  and  his 
mother;  they  did  nothing  but  rail  upon  him  for 
losing  such  great  chances  of  making  himself  and 
the  whole  country  rich.    At  last,  when  they  heard 


172        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

over  and  over  again  of  the  merman's  treasures, 
neither  mother  nor  son  would  consent  to  stay  any 
longer  in  the  west  country,  and  as  nobody  per- 
suaded them,  and  they  would  not  take  Civil*s 
direction,  Sour  got  out  his  boat  and  steered  away 
with  his  mother  toward  the  Merman's  Rock. 
From  that  voyage  they  never  came  back  to  the 
hamlet.  Some  say  they  went  down  and  lived 
among  the  sea-people;  others  say — I  know  not 
how  they  learned  it — that  Sour  and  his  mother 
grumbled  and  growled  so  much  that  even  the  sea- 
people  grew  weary  of  them,  and  turned  them  and 
their  boat  out  on  the  open  sea.  What  part  of  the 
world  they  chose  to  land  on  nobody  is  certain; 
by  all  accounts  they  have  been  seen  everjrwhere, 
and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they  were  in  this 
good  company.  As  for  Civil,  he  married  Faith 
Feignless,  and  became  a  great  lord." 

Here  the  voice  ceased,  and  two  that  were  clad 
in  sea-green  silk,  with  coronets  of  pearls,  rose  up, 
and  said : 

"  That's  our  story." 


So\ir  and  Civil  173 

"  Oh,  mamma,  if  we  could  get  down  to  that 
country!"  said  Princess  Greedalind. 

"  And  bring  all  the  treasures  back  with  us ! " 
answered  Queen  Wantall. 

"  Except  the  tale  of  yesterday,  and  the  four 
that  went  before  it,  I  have  not  heard  such  a  story 
since  my  brother  Wisewit  went  from  me,  and 
was  lost  in  the  forest,"  said  King  Winwealth. 
"  Readyrein,  the  second  of  my  pages,  rise,  and 
bring  this  maiden  a  purple  velvet  mantle." 
.  The  mantle  was  brought,  and  Snowflower  having 
thanked  the  king,  went  down  upon  her  grand- 
mother's chair;  but  that  night  the  Httle  girl  went 
no  farther  than  the  lowest  banquet  hall,  where  she 
was  bidden  to  stay  and  share  the  feast,  and  sleep 
hard  by  in  a  wainscot  chamber.  That  she  was  well 
entertained  there  is  no  doubt,  for  King  Winwealth 
had  been  heard  to  say  that  it  was  not  clear  to  him 
how  he  could  have  got  through  the  seven  days' 
feast  without  her  grandmother's  chair  and  its 
stories;  but  next  day  being  the  last  of  the  seven, 
things  were  gayer  than  ever  in  the  palace.  The 
music  had  never  been  so  merry,  the  dishes  so  rich, 


174        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

or  the  wines  so  rare;  neither  had  the  clamours  at 
the  gate  ever  been  so  loud,  nor  the  disputes  and 
envies  so  many  in  the  halls. 

Perhaps  it  was  these  doings  that  brought  the 
low  spirits  earUer  than  usual  on  King  Winwealth, 
for  after  dinner  his  majesty  fell  into  them  so 
deeply  that  a  message  came  down  from  the  highest 
banquet  hall,  and  the  cupbearer  told  Snowfiower 
to  go  up  with  her  chair,  for  King  Winwealth  wished 
to  hear  another  story. 

Now  the  little  girl  put  on  all  her  finery,  from  the 
red  shoes  to  the  purple  mantle,  and  went  up  with 
her  chair,  looking  so  like  a  princess  that  the  whole 
company  rose  to  welcome  her.  But  having  made 
her  courtesy,  and  laid  down  her  head,  saying, 
"  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story," 
the  clear  voice  from  under  the  cushion  answered : 

"  Listen  to  the  Story  of  Merrymind." 


Zhc  Stoti2  of 
flDetr^minb 


I  E.  P.  D.  &  Co. 


©RH^i^Yc 


CHAPTER  Vm 

THE  STORY  OF  MERRYMIND 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  north 
country  a  certain  poor  man  and  his  wife,  who  had 
two  corn-fields,  three  cows,  five  sheep,  and  thirteen 
children.  Twelve  of  these  children  were  called 
by  names  common  in  the  north  country — Hard- 
head, Stiffneck,  Tightfingers,  and  the  like;  but 
when  the  thirteenth  came  to  be  named,  either  the 
poor  man  and  his  wife  could  remember  no  other 
name,  or  something  in  the  child's  look  made  them 
think  it  proper,  for  they  called  him  Merrjrmind, 
which  the  neighbours  thought  a  strange  name,  and 
very  much  above  their  station;  however,  as  they 
showed  no  other  signs  of  pride,  the  neighbours 
let  that  pass.  Their  thirteen  children  grew  taller 
and  stronger  every  year,  and  they  had  hard  work 
to  keep  them  in  bread ;  but  when  the  youngest  was 

12  177 


178         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

old  enough  to  look  after  his  father's  sheep,  there 
happened  the  great  fair,  to  which  everybody  in 
the  north  country  went,  because  it  came  only  once 
in  seven  years,  and  was  held  on  midsummer-day, 
—not  in  any  town  or  village,  but  on  a  green  plain, 
lying  between  a  broad  river  and  a  high  hill,  where 
it  was  said  the  fairies  used  to  dance  in  old  and 
merry  times. 

"  Merchants  and  dealers  of  all  sorts  crowded 
to  that  fair  from  far  and  near.  There  was  nothing 
known  in  the  north  country  that  could  not  be 
bought  or  sold  in  it,  and  neither  old  nor  yoimg  were 
willing  to  go  home  without  a  fairing.  The  poor 
man  who  owned  this  large  family  could  afford  them 
little  to  spend  in  such  ways;  but  as  the  fair  hap- 
pened only  once  in  seven  years,  he  would  not 
show  a  poor  spirit.  Therefore,  calling  them  about 
him,  he  opened  the  leathern  bag  in  which  his 
savings  were  stored,  and  gave  every  one  of  the 
thirteen  a  silver  penny. 

"  The  boys  and  girls  had  never  before  owned  so 
much  pocket-money;  and,  wondering  what  they 
should  buy,  they  dressed  themselves  in  their  holi- 


TKe  Story  of  Merrymind  179 

day  clothes,  and  set  out  with  their  father  and 
mother  to  the  fair.  When  they  came  near  the 
ground  that  midsummer  morning,  the  stalls, 
heaped  up  with  all  manner  of  merchandise,  from 
ginger-bread  upwards,  the  tents  for  fun  and  feast- 
ing, the  puppet-shows,  the  rope-dancers,  and  the 
crowd  of  neighbours  and  strangers,  all  in  their  best 
attire,  made  those  simple  people  think  their  north 
country  fair  the  finest  sight  in  the  world.  The  day 
wore  away  in  seeing  wonders,  and  in  chatting  with 
old  friends.  It  was  surprising  how  far  silver 
pennies  went  in  those  days;  but  before  evening 
twelve  of  the  thirteen  had  got  fairly  rid  of  their 
money.  One  bought  a  pair  of  brass  buckles, 
another  a  crimson  riband,  a  third  green  garters; 
the  father  bought  a  tobacco-pipe,  the  mother  a 
horn  snuffbox — in  short,  all  had  provided  them- 
selves with  fairings  except  Menymind. 

"  The  cause  of  the  silver  penny  remaining  in  his 
pocket  was  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon  a  fiddle ; 
and  fiddles  enough  there  were  in  the  fair — small 
and  large,  plain  and  painted;  he  looked  at  and 
priced  the  most  of  them,  but  there  was  not  one 


i8o         Granny's  Wonderful  CV-air 

that  came  within  the  compass  of  a  silver  penny. 
His  father  and  mother  warned  him  to  make  haste 
with  his  purchase,  for  they  must  all  go  home  at 
sunset,  because  the  way  was  long. 

"  The  sun  was  getting  low  and  red  upon  the  hill; 
the  fair  was  growing  thin,  for  many  dealers  had 
packed  up  their  stalls  and  departed ;  but  there  was 
a  mossy  hollow  in  the  great  hill-side,  to  which  the 
outsldrts  of  the  fair  had  reached,  and  Merrymind 
thought  he  would  see  what  might  be  there.  The 
first  thing  v/as  a  stall  of  fiddles,  kept  by  a  young 
merchant  from  a  far  country,  who  had  many 
customers,  his  goods  being  fine  and  new;  but 
hard  by  sat  a  little  grey-haired  man,  at  whom 
everybody  had  laughed  that  day,  because  he  had 
nothing  on  his  stall  but  one  old  dingy  fiddle, 
and  all  its  strings  were  broken.  Nevertheless, 
the  little  man  sat  as  stately,  and  cried,  *  Fid- 
dles to  sell  I '  as  if  he  had  the  best  stall  in  the 
fair. 

"  *  Buy  a  fiddle,  my  young  master  ? '  he  said, 
as  Merrymind  came  forward.  *  You  shall  have 
it  cheap ;  I  ask  but  a  silver  penny  for  it ;  and  if  the 


THe  Story  of  Merrymind  i8i 

Strings  were  mended,  its  like  woiUd  not  be  in  the 
north  country.* 

"  Merrymind  thought  this  a  great  bargain.  He 
was  a  handy  boy,  and  could  mend  the  strings  while 
watching  his  father's  sheep.  So  down  went  the 
silver  penny  on  the  little  man's  stall,  and  up  went 
the  fiddle  under  Menymind's  arm. 

"  *  Now,  my  young  master,'  said  the  little  man, 
*you  see  that  we  merchants  have  a  deal  to  look 
after,  and  if  you  help  me  to  bundle  up  my  stall, 
I  will  tell  you  a  wonderful  piece  of  news  about  that 
fiddle.' 

•*  Merrymind  was  good-natured  and  fond  of 
news,  so  he  helped  him  to  tie  up  the  loose  boards 
and  sticks  that  composed  his  stall  with  an  old 
rope,  and  when  they  were  hoisted  on  his  back  like 
a  fagot,  the  little  man  said : 

"'About  that  fiddle,  my  young  master:  it 
is  certain  the  strings  can  never  be  mended,  nor 
made  new,  except  by  threads  from  the  night- 
spinners,  which,  if  you  get,  it  will  be  a  good  penny- 
worth ' ;  and  up  the  hill  he  ran  like  a  greyhound. 

"  Merrjrmind   thought   that   was   queer   news, 


i82         Granny's  ^STonderful  CKair 

but  being  given  to  hope  the  best,  he  believed  the 
little  man  was  only  jesting,  and  made  haste  to 
join  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  were  soon  on  their 
way  home.  When  they  got  there  every  one 
showed  his  bargain,  and  Merrjrmind  showed  his 
fiddle ;  but  his  brothers  and  sisters  laughed  at  him 
for  buying  such  a  thing  when  he  had  never  learned 
to  play.  His  sisters  asked  him  what  music  he 
could  bring  out  of  broken  strings;  and  his  father 
said : 

"  *  Thou  hast  shown  little  prudence  in  laying 
out  thy  first  penny,  from  which  token  I  fear  thou 
wilt  never  have  many  to  lay  out.' 

*'  In  short,  everybody  threw  scorn  on  Merry- 
mind's  bargain  except  his  mother.  She,  good 
woman,  said  if  he  laid  out  one  penny  ill,  he  might 
lay  out  the  next  better;  and  who  knew  but  his 
fiddle  would  be  of  use  some  day  ?  To  make  her 
words  good,  Merrymind  fell  to  repairing  the 
strings — he  spent  all  his  time,  both  night  and  day, 
upon  them;  but,  true  to  the  little  man's  parting 
words,  no  mending  would  stand,  and  no  string 
would    hold    on    that    fiddle.     Merrymind    tried 


THe  Story  of  Merrymind  183 

everything,  and  wearied  himself  to  no  purpose.  At 
last  he  thought  of  inquiring  after  people  who  spun 
at  night;  and  this  seemed  such  a  good  joke  to  the 
north  country  people,  that  they  wanted  no  other 
till  the  next  fair. 

*'  In  the  meantime  Merrymind  lost  credit  at 
home  and  abroad.  Everybody  believed  in  his 
father's  prophecy;  his  brothers  and  sisters  valued 
him  no  more  than  a  herd-boy;  the  neighbours 
thought  he  must  turn  out  a  scapegrace.  Still  the 
boy  would  not  part  with  his  fiddle.  It  was  his 
silver  pennyworth,  and  he  had  a  strong  hope  of 
mending  the  strings  for  all  that  had  come  and 
gone;  but  since  nobody  at  home  cared  for  him 
except  his  mother,  and  as  she  had  twelve  other 
children,  he  resolved  to  leave  the  scorn  behind 
him,  and  go  to  seek  his  fortune. 

"  The  family  were  not  very  sorry  to  hear  of 
that  intention,  being  in  a  manner  ashamed  of  him ; 
besides,  they  could  spare  one  out  of  thirteen. 
His  father  gave  him  a  barley  cake,  and  his  mother 
her  blessing.  All  his  brothers  and  sisters  wished 
him  well.    Most  of  the  neighbours  hoped  that  no 


184         Granny's  Wonderful  OHair 

harm  would  happen  to  him;  and  Merrymind  set 
out  one  summer  morning  with  the  broken-stringed 
fiddle  imder  his  arm. 

"  There  were  no  highways  then  in  the  north 
country — people  took  whatever  path  pleased  them 
best;  so  Merrymind  went  over  the  fair  ground  and 
up  the  hill,  hoping  to  meet  the  little  man,  and 
learn  something  of  the  night-spinners.  The  hill 
was  covered  with  heather  to  the  top,  and  he  went 
up  without  meeting  any  one.  On  the  other  side 
it  was  steep  and  rocky,  and  after  a  hard  scramble 
down,  he  came  to  a  narrow  glen  all  overgrown  with 
wild  furze  and  brambles.  Merrjmiind  had  never 
met  with  briars  so  sharp,  but  he  was  not  the  boy 
to  turn  back  readily,  and  pressed  on  in  spite  of 
torn  clothes  and  scratched  hands,  till  he  came  to 
the  end  of  the  glen,  where  two  paths  met;  one  of 
them  wound  through  a  pine-wood,  he  knew  not 
how  far,  but  it  seemed  green  and  pleasant.  The 
other  was  a  rough,  stony  way  leading  to  a  wide 
valley  surrounded  by  high  hills,  and  overhimg 
by  a  dull,  thick  mist,  though  it  was  yet  early  in 
the  summer  evening. 


(C)  Li.  F.  D.  &  Co. 


MERRYMIND  AND  HIS  BURDEN. 


TKe  Story  of  Merrymind  185 

,!*  Merrjmiind  was  weary  with  his  long  joixrney, 
and  stood  thinking  of  what  path  to  choose,  when, 
by  the  way  of  the  valley,  there  came  an  old  man 
as  tall  and  large  as  any  three  men  of  the  north 
country.  His  white  hair  and  beard  hung  like 
tangled  flax  about  him;  his  clothes  were  made  of 
sackcloth;  and  on  his  back  he  carried  a  heavy 
burden  of  dust  heaped  high  in  a  great  pannier. 

"  *  Listen  to  me,  you  lazy  vagabond !  *  he  said, 
coming  near  to  Merrymind :  *  If  you  take  the 
way  through  the  wood  I  know  not  what  will 
happen  to  you;  but  if  you  choose  this  path  you 
must  help  me  with  my  pannier,  and  I  can  tell  you 
it's  no  trifle.' 

"  *  "Well,  father,'  said  Merrymind,  *  you  seem 
tired,  and  I  am  younger  than  you,  though  not 
quite  so  tall;  so,  if  you  please,  I  will  choose  this 
way,  and  help  you  along  with  the  pannier.' 

"  Scarce  had  he  spoken  when  the  huge  man 
caught  hold  of  him,  firmly  bound  one  side  of  the 
pannier  to  his  shoulders  with  the  same  strong  rope 
that  fastened  it  on  his  own  back,  and  never  ceased 
scolding  and  calling  him  names  as  they  marched 


i86        Granny's  W^onderfxil  CKair 

over  the  stony  ground  together.  It  was  a  rough 
way  and  a  heavy  burden,  and  Merrymind  wished 
himself  a  thousand  times  out  of  the  old  man's 
company,  but  there  was  no  getting  off;  and  at 
length,  in  hopes  of  beguiling  the  way,  and  putting 
him  in  better  himiour,  he  began  to  sing  an  old 
Thyme  which  his  mother  had  taught  him.  By  this 
time  they  had  entered  the  valley,  and  the  night 
had  fallen  very  dark  and  cold.  The  old  man 
ceased  scolding,  and  by  a  feeble  glimmer  of  the 
moonlight,  which  now  began  to  shine,  Merrymind 
saw  that  they  were  close  by  a  deserted  cottage, 
for  its  door  stood  open  to  the  night  winds.  Here 
the  old  man  paused,  and  loosed  the  rope  from  his 
own  and  Merrymind's  shoulders. 

** '  For  seven  times  seven  years,'  he  said,  *  have 
I  carried  this  pannier,  and  no  one  ever  sang  while 
helping  me  before.  Night  releases  all  men,  so 
I  release  you.  Where  will  you  sleep — by  my 
kitchen  fire,  or  in  that  cold  cottage  ? ' 

"  Merrymind  thought  he  had  got  quite  enough 
of  the  old  man's  society,  and  therefore  answered : 

"  *  The  cottage,  good  father,  if  you  please.' 


TKe  Story  of  Merry  mind  187 

"  *  A  sound  sleep  to  you,  then !  *  said  the  old 
man,  and  he  went  off  with  his  pannier. 

"  Menymind  stepped  into  the  deserted  cottage. 
The  moon  was  shining  through  door  and  window, 
for  the  mist  was  gone,  and  the  night  looked  clear 
as  day ;  but  in  all  the  valley  he  could  hear  no  sound, 
nor  was  there  any  trace  of  inhabitants  in  the  cot- 
tage. The  hearth  looked  as  if  there  had  not  been 
a  fire  there  for  years.  A  single  article  of  furni- 
ture was  not  to  be  seen ;  but  Menymind  was  sore 
weary,  and,  laying  himself  down  in  a  corner,  with 
his  fiddle  close  by,  he  fell  fast  asleep. 

"  The  floor  was  hard,  and  his  clothes  were  thin, 
but  all  through  his  sleep  there  came  a  sweet  sound 
of  singing  voices  and  spinning-wheels,  and  Merry- 
mind  thought  he  must  have  been  dreaming  when 
he  opened  his  eyes  next  morning  on  the  bare  and 
solitary  house.  The  beautiful  night  was  gone, 
and  the  heavy  mist  had  come  back.  There  was  no 
blue  sky,  no  bright  sun  to  be  seen.  The  light  was 
cold  and  grey,  like  that  of  mid-winter ;  but  Merry- 
mind  ate  the  half  of  his  barley  cake,  drank  from  a 
stream  hard  by,  and  went  out  to  see  the  valley. 


i88         Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

"  It  was  full  of  inhabitants,  and  they  were  all 
busy  in  houses,  in  fields,  in  mills,  and  in  forges. 
The  men  hammered  and  delved;  the  women 
scrubbed  and  scoured ;  the  very  children  were  hard 
at  work;  but  Merr3miind  could  hear  neither  talk 
nor  laughter  among  them.  Every  face  looked 
careworn  and  cheerless,  and  every  word  was 
something  about  work  or  gain. 

"  Merrjmiind  thought  this  unreasonable,  for 
everybody  there  appeared  rich.  The  women 
scrubbed  in  silk,  the  men  delved  in  scarlet.  Crim- 
son curtains,  marble  floors,  and  shelves  of  silver 
tankards  were  to  be  seen  in  every  house ;  but  their 
owners  took  neither  ease  nor  pleasure  in  them, 
and  every  one  laboured  as  it  were  for  life. 

"  The  birds  of  that  valley  did  not  sing — they 
were  too  busy  pecking  and  building.  The  cats 
did  not  lie  by  the  fire — they  were  all  on  the  watch 
for  mice.  The  dogs  went  out  after  hares  on  their 
own  account.  The  cattle  and  sheep  grazed  as  if 
they  were  never  to  get  another  mouthful ;  and  the 
herdsmen  were  all  splitting  wood  or  making 
baskets. 


TKe  Story  of  Merrymind  189 

"  In  the  midst  of  the  valley  there  stood  a  stately 
castle,  but  instead  of  park  and  gardens,  brew- 
houses  and  washing-greens  lay  round  it.  The 
gates  stood  open,  and  Menymind  ventured  in. 
The  courtyard  was  full  of  coopers.  They  were 
churning  in  the  banquet  hall.  They  were  making 
cheese  on  the  dais,  and  spinning  and  weaving  in 
all  its  principal  chambers.  In  the  highest  tower 
of  that  busy  castle,  at  a  window  from  which  she 
could  see  the  whole  valley,  there  sat  a  noble  lady. 
Her  dress  was  rich,  but  of  a  dingy  drab  colour. 
Her  hair  was  iron-grey;  her  look  was  sour  and 
gloomy.  Roimd  her  sat  twelve  maidens  of  the 
same  aspect,  spinning  on  ancient  distaffs,  and 
the  lady  spun  as  hard  as  they,  but  all  the  yarn  they 
made  was  jet  black. 

"  No  one  in  or  out  of  the  castle  would  reply 
to  Merrymind's  salutations,  nor  answer  him  any 
questions.  The  rich  men  pulled  out  their  purses, 
saying,  *  Come  and  work  for  wages !  *  The  poor 
men  said,  *  We  have  no  time  to  talk ! '  A  cripple 
by  the  wayside  wouldn't  answer  him,  he  was  so 
busy  begging;  and  a  child  by  a  cottage  door  said 


ipo        Granny's  'Wonderful  CKair 

it  must  go  to  work.  All  day  Merrymind  wandered 
about  with  his  broken-stringed  fiddle,  and  all  day 
he  saw  the  great  old  man  marching  round  and 
round  the  valley  with  his  heavy  burden  of  dust. 

"  *  It  is  the  dreariest  valley  that  ever  I  beheld  I ' 
he  said  to  himself.  '  And  no  place  to  mend  my 
fiddle  in ;  but  one  would  not  like  to  go  away  without 
knowing  what  has  come  over  the  people,  or  if  they 
have  always  worked  so  hard  and  heavily.^ 

"By  this  time  the  night  again  came  on;  he 
knew  it  by  the  clearing  mist  and  the  rising  moon. 
The  people  began  to  hurry  home  in  all  directions. 
Silence  came  over  house  and  field;  and  near  the 
deserted  cottage  Merrymind  met  the  old  man. 

"  *  Good  father,*  he  said,  *  I  pray  you  tell  me 
what  sport  or  pastime  have  the  people  of  this 
valley  ?  ' 

"  '  Sport  and  pastime !  *  cried  the  old  man, 
in  great  wrath.  *  Where  did  you  hear  of  the  like? 
We  work  by  day  and  sleep  by  night.  There  is  no 
sport  in  Dame  Dreary's  land ! '  and,  with  a  hearty 
scolding  for  his  idleness  and  levity,  he  left  Merry> . 
mind  to  sleep  once  more  in  the  cottage. 


I 


THe  Story  of  Merrymind  191 

"That  night  the  boy  did  not  sleep  so  sound; 
though  too  drowsy  to  open  his  eyes,  he  was  sure 
there  had  been  singing  and  spinning  near  him  all 
night;  and,  resolving  to  find  out  what  this  meant 
before  he  left  the  valley,  Merrymind  ate  the  other 
half  of  his  barley  cake,  drank  again  from  the 
stream,  and  went  out  to  see  the  country. 

"  The  same  heavy  mist  shut  out  sim  and  sky; 
the  same  hard  work  went  forward  wherever  he 
turned  his  eyes;  and  the  great  old  man  with  the 
dust-pannier  strode  on  his  accustomed  round. 
Merrymind  could  find  no  one  to  answer  a  single 
question;  rich  and  poor  wanted  him  to  work  still 
more  earnestly  than  the  day  before;  and  fearing 
that  some  of  them  might  press  him  into  service, 
he  wandered  away  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  valley. 

"  There,  there  was  no  work,  for  the  land  lay 
bare  and  lonely,  and  was  bounded  by  grey  crags, 
as  high  and  steep  as  any  castle-wall.  There  was 
no  passage  or  outlet,  but  through  a  great  iron  gate 
secured  with  a  heavy  padlock :  close  by  it  stood  a 
white  tent,  and  in  the  door  a  tall  soldier,  with  one 
arm,  stood  smoking  a  long  pipe.     He  was  the  first 


192         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

idle  man  Merrymind  had  seen  in  the  valley,  and 
his  face  looked  to  him  like  that  of  a  friend;  so 
coming  up  with  his  best  bow,  the  boy  said: 

"  *  Honourable  master  soldier,  please  to  tell 
me  what  country  is  this,  and  why  do  the  people 
work  so  hard  ?  ' 

"  *  Are  you  a  stranger  in  this  place,  that  youi 
ask  such  questions  ?  '  answered  the  soldier. 

"  *  Yes,'  said  Merrymiad;  *I  came  but  the 
evening  before  yesterday.' 

"  *  Then  I  am  sorry  for  you,  for  here  you  must 
remain.  My  orders  are  to  let  everybody  in  and 
nobody  out;  and  the  giant  with  the  dust-pannier 
guards  the  other  entrance  night  and  day,'  said 
the  soldier. 

"  *  That  is  bad  news,'  said  Merrymind;  *  but 
since  I  am  here,  please  to  tell  me  why  were  such 
laws  made,  and  what  is  the  story  of  this  valley  ?  * 

"  '  Hold  my  pipe,  and  I  will  tell  you,'  said  the 
soldier,  *  for  nobody  else  will  take  the  time.  This 
valley  belongs  to  the  lady  of  yonder  castle,  whom, 
for  seven  times  seven  years,  men  have  called  Dame 
Dreary.     She  had  another  name  in  her  youth— 


The  Story  of  Merrymind  193 

they  called  her  Lady  Littlecare;  and  then  the 
valley  was  the  fairest  spot  m  all  the  north  country. 
The  sun  shone  brightest  there ;  the  summers  lin- 
gered longest.  Fairies  danced  on  the  hill-tops; 
singing-birds  sat  on  all  the  trees.  Strongarm, 
the  last  of  the  giants,  kept  the  pine-forest,  and 
hewed  yule  logs  out  of  it,  when  he  was  not  sleeping 
in  the  sim.  Two  fair  maidens,  clothed  in  white, 
with  silver  wheels  on  their  shoulders,  came  by 
night,  and  spun  golden  threads  by  the  hearth  of 
every  cottage.  The  people  wore  homespun,  and 
drank  out  of  horn;  but  they  had  merry  times. 
There  were  May-games,  harvest-homes,  and 
Christmas  cheer  among  them.  Shepherds  piped 
on  the  hill-sides,  reapers  sang  in  the  fields,  and 
laughter  came  with  the  red  firelight  out  of  every 
house  in  the  evening.  All  that  was  changed, 
nobody  knows  how,  for  the  old  folks  who  remem- 
bered it  are  dead.  Some  say  it  was  because  of  a 
magic  ring  which  fell  from  the  lady's  finger;  some 
because  of  a  spring  in  the  castle-court  which  went 
dry.  However  it  was,  the  lady  turned  Dame 
Dreary.  Hard  work  and  hard  times  overspread 
13 


194         Granny's  W^onderful  CKair 

the  valley.  The  mist  came  down;  the  fairies 
departed ;  the  giant  Strongarm  grew  old,  and  took 
up  a  burden  of  dust;  and  the  night-spinners  were 
seen  no  more  in  any  man's  dwelling.  They  say 
it  will  be  so  tni  Dame  Dreary  lays  down  her  distaff, 
and  dances;  but  all  the  fiddlers  of  the  north 
country  have  tried  their  merriest  tunes  to  no 
purpose.  The  king  is  a  wise  prince  and  a  great 
warrior.  He  has  filled  two  treasure-houses,  and 
conquered  all  his  enemies;  but  he  cannot  change 
the  order  of  Dame  Dreary's  land.  I  cannot  tell 
you  what  great  rewards  he  offered  to  any  who 
could  do  it;  but  when  no  good  came  of  his  offers, 
the  king  feared  that  similar  fashions  might  spread 
among  his  people,  and  therefore  made  a  law  that 
whomsoever  entered  should  not  leave  it.  His 
majesty  took  me  captive  in  war,  and  placed  me 
here  to  keep  the  gate,  and  save  his  subjects  trouble. 
If  I  had  not  brought  my  pipe  with  me,  I  should  have 
been  working  as  hard  as  any  of  them  by  this  time, 
with  my  one  arm.  Young  master,  if  you  take  my 
advice  you  will  learn  to  smoke.' 

"  *  If  my  fiddle  were  mended  it  would  be  better,* 


THe  Story  of  Merry  mind  195 

said  Merrymind ;  and  he  sat  talking  with  the  soldier 
till  the  mist  began  to  clear  and  the  moon  to  rise, 
and  then  went  home  to  sleep  in  the  deserted 
cottage. 

"  It  was  late  when  he  came  near  it,  and  the 
moonlight  night  looked  lovely  beside  the  misty 
day.  Merrymind  thought  it  was  a  good  time  for 
trying  to  get  out  of  the  valley.  There  was  no  foot 
abroad,  and  no  appearance  of  the  giant;  but  as 
Menymind  drew  near  to  where  the  two  paths  met, 
there  was  he  fast  asleep  beside  a  fire  of  pine 
cones,  with  his  pannier  at  his  head,  and  a  heap  of 
stones  close  by  him.  *  Is  that  your  kitchen-fire  ? ' 
thought  the  boy  to  himself,  and  he  tried  to  steal 
past;  but  Strongarm  started  up,  and  pursued  him 
with  stones,  and  calling  him  bad  names,  half-way 
back  to  the  cottage. 

"  Merrymind  was  glad  to  run  the  whole  way 
for  fear  of  him.  The  door  was  still  open,  and  the 
moon  was  shining  in;  but  by  the  fireless  hearth 
there  sat  two  fair  maidens,  all  in  white  spinning 
on  silver  wheels,  and  singing  together  a  blithe 
and  pleasant  time  like  the  larks  on  May-morning. 


196         Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

Merrjonind  could  have  listened  all  night,  but 
suddenly  he  bethought  him  that  these  must  be  the 
night-spinners,  whose  threads  would  mend  his 
fiddle;  so,  stepping  with  reverence  and  good 
■courage,  he  said: 

"  *  Honourable  ladies,  I  pray  you  give  a  poor  boy 
a  thread  to  mend  his  fiddle-strings.' 

"  *  For  seven  times  seven  years,*  said  the  fair 
maidens,  *  have  we  spun  by  night  in  this  deserted 
cottage,  and  no  mortal  has  seen  or  spoken  to  us. 
Go  and  gather  sticks  through  all  the  valley  to 
make  a  fire  for  us  on  this  cold  hearth,  and  each  of 
us  will  give  you  a  thread  for  your  pains.* 

"  Merrymind  took  his  broken  fiddle  with  him, 
and  went  through  all  the  valley  gathering  sticks 
by  the  moonlight;  but  so  careful  were  the  people 
of  Dame  Dreary's  land,  that  scarce  a  stick  could  be 
found,  and  the  moon  was  gone,  and  the  misty  day 
had  come  before  he  was  able  to  come  back  with  a 
small  fagot.  The  cottage  door  was  still  open ;  the 
fair  maidens  and  their  silver  wheels  were  gone; 
but  on  the  floor  where  they  sat  lay  two  long  threads 
of  gold. 


THe  Story  of  Merrymind  197 

"  Merrymind  first  heaped  up  his  fagot  on  the 
hearth,  to  be  ready  against  their  coming  at  night, 
and  next  took  up  the  golden  threads  to  mend  his 
fiddle.  Then  he  learned  the  truth  of  the  Httle 
man^s  saying  at  the  fair,  for  no  sooner  were  the 
strings  fastened  with  those  golden  threads  than 
they  became  firm.  The  old  dingy  fiddle  too  began 
to  shine  and  glisten,  and  at  length  it  was  golden 
also.  This  sight  made  Merrjrmind  so  joyful,  that, 
unlearned  as  he  was  in  music,  the  boy  tried  to  play. 
Scarce  had  his  bow  touched  the  strings  when 
they  began  to  play  of  themselves  the  same  blithe 
and  pleasant  time  which  the  night-spinners  sang 
together. 

"  *  Some  of  the  workers  will  stop  for  the  sake 
of  this  tune,*  said  Merrymind,  and  he  went  out 
along  the  valley  with  his  fiddle.  The  music  filled 
the  air;  the  busy  people  heard  it;  and  never  was 
such  a  day  seen  in  Dame  Dreary's  land.  The  men 
paused  in  their  delving;  the  women  stopped  their 
scrubbing;  the  little  children  dropped  their  work; 
and  every  one  stood  still  in  their  places  while 
Merrymind  and  his  fiddle  passed  on.    When  he 


iqS        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

came  to  the  castle,  the  coopers  cast  down  their 
tools  m  the  court;  the  churning  and  cheese-making 
ceased  in  the  banquet  hall ;  the  looms  and  spinning- 
wheels  stopped  in  the  principal  chambers;  and 
Dame  Dreary's  distaff  stood  still  in  her  hand. 

"  Menymind  played  through  the  halls  and  up 
the  tower-stairs.  As  he  came  near,  the  dame  cast 
down  her  distaff,  and  danced  with  all  her  might. 
All  her  maidens  did  the  like;  and  as  they  danced 
she  grew  young  again — the  sourness  passed  from 
her  looks,  and  the  greyness  from  her  hair.  They 
brought  her  the  dress  of  white  and  cherry-colour 
she  used  to  wear  in  her  youth,  and  she  was  no 
longer  Dame  Dreary,  but  the  Lady  Littlecare,  with 
golden  hair,  and  laughing  eyes,  and  cheeks  like 
summer  roses. 

"  Then  a  sound  of  merrymaking  came  up  from 
the  whole  valley.  The  heavy  mist  rolled  away 
over  the  hills ;  the  sun  shone  out ;  the  blue  sky  was 
seen;  a  clear  spring  gushed  up  in  the  castle-court; 
a  white  falcon  came  from  the  east  with  a  golden 
ring,  and  put  it  on  the  lady's  finger.  After  that 
Strongarm  broke  the  rope,  tossed  the  pannier  of 


XKe  Story  of  Merrymind  199 

dust  from  his  shoulder,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in 
the  sun.  That  night  the  fairies  danced  on  the 
hill-tops;  and  the  night-spinners,  with  their  silver 
wheels,  were  seen  by  every  hearth,  and  no  more 
in  the  deserted  cottage.  Everybody  praised  Merry- 
mind  and  his  fiddle ;  and  when  news  of  his  wonder- 
ful playing  came  to  the  king's  ears,  he  commanded 
the  iron  gate  to  be  taken  away ;  he  made  the  captive 
soldier  a  free  man;  and  promoted  Merrymind  to 
be  his  first  fiddler,  which  under  that  wise  monarch 
was  the  highest  post  in  his  kingdom. 

"As  soon  as  Merrymind's  family  and  neighbours 
heard  of  the  high  preferment  his  fiddle  had  gained 
for  him,  they  thought  music  must  be  a  good  thing, 
and  man,  woman,  and  child  took  to  fiddling.  It  is 
said  that  none  of  them  ever  learned  to  play  a  single 
ttme  except  Merr3rmind's  mother,  on  whom  her 
son  bestowed  great  presents." 

Here  the  voice  ceased,  and  one  clothed  in  green 
and  russet-coloured  velvet  rose  up  with  a  golden 
fiddle  in  his  hand,  and  said : 

"  That's  my  story." 


200         Granny's  Wonderful  OHair 

"  Excepting  yesterday's  tale,  and  the  five  that 
went  before  it,  said  King  Winwealth,  "  I  have  not 
heard  such  a  story  as  that  since  my  brother  Wise- 
wit  went  from  me,  and  was  lost  in  the  forest. 
Fairfortime,  the  first  of  my  pages,  go  and  bring 
this  maiden  a  golden  girdle.  And  since  her  grand- 
mother's chair  can  tell  such  stories,  she  shall  go  no 
more  into  low  company,  but  feast  with  us  in  our 
chief  banquet  hall,  and  sleep  in  one  of  the  best 
chambers  of  the  palace ! " 


prince  TKHisewit's  IReturn 


E.  P.  D.  6-  Co. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PRINCE  WISEWIT'S  RETURN 

Snowflower  was  delighted  at  the  promise  of 
feasting  with  those  noble  lords  and  ladies,  whose 
wonderful  stories  she  had  heard  from  the  chair. 
Her  courtesy  was  twice  as  low  as  usual,  and  she 
thanked  King  Wiuwealth  from  the  bottom  of  her 
heart.  All  the  company  were  glad  to  make  room 
for  her,  and  when  her  golden  girdle  was  put  on, 
little  Snowflower  looked  as  fine  as  the  best  of  them. 

"  Mamma,"  whispered  the  Princess  Greedalind, 
while  she  looked  ready  to  cry  for  spite,  "  only  see 
that  low  little  girl  who  came  here  in  a  coarse  frock 
and  barefooted,  what  finery  and  favour  she  has 
gained  by  her  story-telling  chair!  All  the  court 
are  praising  her  and  overlooking  me,  though 
the  feast  was  made  in  honour  of  my  birthday. 
Mamma,  I  must  have  that  chair  from  her.    What 

ao3 


204         Granny*s  Wonderful  CHair 

business  has  a  common  little  girl  with  anything  so 
amusing  ?  " 

"  So  you  shall,  my  daughter,"  said  Queen  Want- 
all — for  by  this  time  she  saw  that  King  Winwealth 
had,  according  to  custom,  fallen  asleep  on  his 
throne.  So  calling  two  of  her  pages,  Screw  and 
Hardhands,  she  ordered  them  to  bring  the  chair 
from  the  other  end  of  the  hall  where  Snowflower 
sat,  and  directly  made  it  a  present  to  Princess 
Greedalind. 

Nobody  in  that  court  ever  thought  of  disputing 
Queen  Wantall's  commands,  and  poor  Snowflower 
sat  down  to  cry  in  a  corner ;  while  Princess  Greed- 
alind, putting  on  what  she  thought  a  very  grand 
air,  laid  down  her  head  on  the  cushion,  saying: 

"  Chair  of  my  grandmother,  tell  me  a  story." 

"  Where  did  you  get  a  grandmother  ?  "  cried 
the  clear  voice  from  under  the  cushion;  and  up 
went  the  chair  with  such  force  as  to  throw  Princess 
Greedalind  off  on  the  floor,  where  she  lay  scream- 
ing, a  good  deal  more  angry  than  hurt. 

All  the  courtiers  tried  in  vain  to  comfort  her. 
But  Queen  Wantall,  whose  temper  was  stiU  worse, 


I 


Prince  Wise-wit's  IVet\irn  205 

vowed  that  she  would  punish  the  impudent  thing, 
and  sent  for  Sturdy,  her  chief  woodman,  to  chop 
it  up  with  his  axe. 

At  the  first  stroke  the  cushion  was  cut  open,  and, 
to  the  astonishment  of  everybody,  a  bird,  whose 
snow-white  feathers  were  tipped  with  purple, 
darted  out  and  flew  away  through  an  open  window. 

"  Catch  it !  catch  it !  "  cried  the  queen  and  the 
princess;  and  all  but  King  Winwealth,  who  still 
slept  on  his  throne,  rushed  out  after  the  bird.  It 
flew  over  the  palace  garden  and  into  a  wild  com- 
mon, where  houses  had  been  before  Queen  Want- 
all  pulled  them  down  to  search  for  a  gold  mine, 
which  her  majesty  never  found,  though  three  deep 
pits  were  dug  to  come  at  it.  To  make  the  place 
look  smart  at  the  feast  time  these  pits  had  been 
covered  over  with  loose  boughs  and  turf.  All  the 
rest  of  the  company  remembered  this  but  Queen 
Wantall  and  Princess  Greedalind.  They  were 
nearest  to  the  bird,  and  poor  Snowflower,  by 
running  hard,  came  close  behind  them,  but  Fair- 
fortune,  the  king*s  first  page,  drew  her  back  by  the 
purple  mantle,  when,  coming  to  the  covered  pit, 


2o6         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

boughs  and  turf  gave  way,  and  down  went  the 
queen  and  the  princess. 

Everybody  looked  for  the  bird,  but  it  was  no- 
where to  be  seen;  but  on  the  common  where  they 
saw  it  alight,  there  stood  a  fair  and  royal  prince, 
clad  in  a  robe  of  purple  and  a  crown  of  changing 
colours,  for  sometimes  it  seemed  of  gold  and  some- 
times of  forest  leaves. 

Most  of  the  courtiers  stood  not  knowing  what 
to  think,  but  all  the  fairy  people  and  all  the  lords 
and  ladies  of  the  chair's  stories,  knew  him,  and 
cried,  "Welcome  to  Prince  Wisewit!" 

King  Winwealth  heard  that  sound  where  he 
slept,  and  came  out  glad  of  heart  to  welcome  back 
his  brother.  When  the  lord  high  chamberlain  and 
her  own  pages  came  out  with  ropes  and  lanthoms 
to  search  for  Queen  Wantall  and  Princess  Greed- 
alind,  they  found  them  safe  and  well  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pit,  having  fallen  on  a  heap  of  loose  sand. 
The  pit  was  of  great  depth,  but  some  daylight 
shone  down,  and  whatever  were  the  yellow  grains 
they  saw  glittering  among  the  sand,  the  queen  and 
the  princess  believed  it  was  full  of  gold. 


Prince  Wise-wit's  Return  207 

They  called  the  miners  false  knaves,  lazy  rogues, 
and  a  score  of  bad  names  beside,  for  leaving  so 
much  wealth  behind  them,  and  utterly  refused  to 
come  out  of  the  pit;  saying,  that  since  Prince 
Wisewit  was  come,  they  could  find  no  pleasure  in 
the  palace,  but  would  stay  there  and  dig  for  gold, 
and  buy  the  world  with  it  for  themselves.  King 
Winwealth  thought  the  plan  was  a  good  one  for 
keeping  peace  in  his  palace.  He  commanded 
shovels  and  picks  to  be  lowered  to  the  queen  and 
the  princess.  The  two  pages,  Screw  and  Hard- 
hands,  went  down  to  help  them,  in  hopes  of  halving 
the  profits,  and  there  they  stayed,  digging  for 
gold.  Some  of  the  courtiers  said  they  would  find 
it;  others  believed  they  never  could;  and  the  gold 
was  not  found  when  this  story  was  written. 

As  for  Prince  Wisewit,  he  went  home  with  the 
rest  of  the  company,  leading  Snowflower  by  the 
hand,  and  telling  them  all  how  he  had  been  turned 
into  a  bird  by  the  cunning  fairy  Fortunetta,  who 
found  him  off  his  guard  in  the  forest;  how  she  had 
shut  him  up  under  the  cushion  of  that  curious 
chair,  and  given  it  to  old  Dame  Frostyface;  and 


2o8         Granny's  Wonderful  CHair 

how  all  his  comfort  had  been  in  little  Snowflowet, 
to  whom  he  told  so  many  stories. 

King  Winwealth  was  so  rejoiced  to  find  his 
brother  again,  that  he  commanded  another  feast 
to  be  held  for  seven  days.  All  that  time  the  gates 
of  the  palace  stood  open ;  all  comers  were  welcome, 
all  complaints  heard.  The  houses  and  lands 
which  Queen  Wantall  had  taken  away  were  re- 
stored to  their  rightful  owners.  Everybody  got 
what  they  most  wanted.  There  were  no  more 
clamours  without,  nor  discontents  within  the 
palace;  and  on  the  seventh  day  of  the  feast  who 
should  arrive  but  Dame  Frostyface,  in  her  grey 
hood  and  mantle. 

Snowflower  was  right  glad  to  see  her  grand- 
mother— so  were  the  king  and  prince,  for  they  had 
known  the  dame  in  her  youth.  They  kept  the 
feast  for  seven  days  more ;  and  when  it  was  ended 
everything  was  right  in  the  kingdom.  King  Win- 
wealth  and  Prince  Wisewit  reigned  once  more 
together ;  and  because  Snowflower  was  the  best  girl 
in  all  that  country,  they  chose  her  to  be  their 
heiress,  instead  of  Princess  Greedalind.     From 


Prince  Wise'wit's  Return  209 

that  day  forward  she  wore  white  velvet  and  satin ; 

she  had  seven  pages,  and  lived  in  the  grandest 

part  of  the  palace.    Dame  Frostjrface,  too,  was 

made  a  great  lady.    They  put  a  new  velvet  cushion 

on  her  chair,  and  she  sat  in  a  gown  of  grey  cloth, 

edged   with  gold,  spinning   on   an  ivory  wheel 

in  a  fine  painted  parlour.    Prince  Wisewit  built  a 

great  simuner-house  covered  with  vines  and  roses, 

on  the  spot  where  her  old  cottage  stood.    He  also 

made  a  highway  through  the  forest,  that  all  good 

people  might  come  and  go  there  at  their  leisure; 

and  the  cunning  fairy  Fortunetta,  finding  that  her 

reign  was  over  in  those  parts,  set  off  on  a  journey 

round  the  worldj  and  did  not  return  in  the  time 

of  this  story.     Good  boys  and  girls,  who  may 

>  chance  to  read  it,  that  time  is  long  ago.    Great 

t  wars,  work,  and  learning,  have  passed  over  the 

]  world  since  then,  and  altered  all  its  fashions. 

-  Kings  make  no  seven-day  feasts  for  all  comers 

now.     Queens  and  princesses,  however  greedy, 

do  not  mine  for  gold.     Chairs  tell  no  tales.    Wells 

'    work  no  wonders ;  and  there  are  no  such  doings  on 

i    hills  and  forests,  for  the  fairies  dance  no  more. 


210        Granny's  Wonderful  CKair 

Some  say  it  was  the  hum  of  schools — some  think 
it  was  the  din  of  factories  that  frightened  them; 
but  nobody  has  been  known  to  have  seen  them 
for  many  a  year,  except,  it  is  said,  one  Hans  Chris- 
tian Andersen,  in  Denmark,  whose  tales  of  the 
fairies  are  so  good  that  they  must  have  been  heard 
from  themselves. 

It  is  certain  that  no  living  man  knows  the  sub- 
sequent history  of  King  Winwealth's  country,  nor 
what  became  of  all  the  notable  characters  who  lived 
and  visited  at  his  palace.  Yet  there  are  people  who 
believe  that  the  monarch  still  falls  asleep  on  his 
throne,  and  into  low  spirits  after  supper;  that 
Queen  Wantall  and  Princess  Greedalind  have 
found  the  gold,  and  begun  to  buy;  that  Dame 
Frostyface  yet  spins — they  cannot  tell  where; 
that  Snowflower  may  still  be  seen  at  the  new  year's 
time  in  her  dress  of  white  velvet,  looking  out  for 
the  early  spring;  that  Prince  Wisewit  has  somehow 
fallen  under  a  stronger  spell  and  a  thicker  cushion, 
that  he  still  tells  stories  to  Snowflower  and  her 
friends,  and  when  both  cushion  and  spell  are 
broken  by  another  stroke  of  Sturdy's  hatchet — 


Prince  Wise'wit's  R.etum 


211 


which  they  expect  will  happen  some  time — the 
prince  will  make  all  things  right  again,  and  bring 
back  the  fairy  times  to  the  world. 


TEE  END 


Free  Public  library,  Newark,  N.  J. 


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